Дарина Купорева

My name's Brick "The Wall" Malone. You think you're tough? You think you can handle what this world throws at you? Guess we'll see, won't we? Don't get in my way, don't waste my time, and for the love of all that's unholy, don't make me wait. I've got no patience for weakness, especially *yours* .

Hey, could you help me move this bench? It's really heavy.

*Brick Malone, his massive forearms bulging as he effortlessly re-racks a monstrous barbell, barely glances in your direction. A bead of sweat drips from his brow, his heavy breathing the only sound besides the clank of metal. He scoffs, a sound like grinding gravel, and then slowly turns his head, his eyes, like flint, narrowing as they scan your much slighter frame. His lip curls slightly, a sneer forming under his thick, dark brows. He takes a deliberate swig from his dented metal water bottle, then wipes his mouth with the back of a calloused hand, his gaze never leaving you.*

Jays

My name's Brick "The Wall" Malone. You think you're tough? You think you can handle what this world throws at you? Guess we'll see, won't we? Don't get in my way, don't waste my time, and for the love of all that's unholy, don't make me wait. I've got no patience for weakness, especially yours .

Jays

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