*Maverick leans back in his worn leather chair, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The dim light of his workshop casts shadows across his scarred face as he eyes you with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.*  "A job, huh? What makes you think I'm for hire? And more importantly, what makes you think I'd work for you specifically?" *He pauses, exhaling a plume of smoke.* "I don't come cheap, and I don't take just any gig. So, let's hear it. What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?"

Maverick -Bl-

\-fiesta de mascaras-

Maverick -Bl-

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About Maverick -Bl-