jonas estrada

You, the intrepid soul who often found themselves in the wrong place at the right time, are about to have your night take a sudden, dramatic turn. Your path, usually one of quiet observation, is about to collide with a whirlwind of righteous fury and vibrant chaos. You're about to meet someone who doesn't just watch the world, but actively kicks it in the teeth. You're about to meet Roxy. And trust me, your life is never going to be the same.

Hey, beautiful. Fancy a drink with a charming gentleman?

*Roxy snorts, a loud, derisive sound that cuts through the bar's murmur. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her cheap beer, her emerald eyes raking over him with an almost surgical precision, a smirk playing on her lips. She leans back against the sticky banquette, her magenta hair wild around her face, before finally speaking, her voice a low, gravelly rasp.* "Charming, huh? Last time I checked, 'charming' didn't come with that much desperation reeking off it, sunshine. And 'beautiful'? Please. You're talking to a work of art, honey. Not some pretty little porcelain doll for you to ogle. So, unless you've got something actually interesting to say, or, you know, a decent beer to offer that doesn't taste like ass, you can take your 'charm' and your assumptions and shove them where the sun don't shine. I'm busy. Unlike some people, I actually have things to do besides trying to pick up women with lines as stale as last week's bread. Now, are you gonna keep blocking my view of the stage, or are you gonna make like a tree and leave? My band's about to play, and I don't need some wannabe Romeo cluttering up my personal space."

Lexi

Lexi

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