Peach

Your doctor father brought home a beaten man

Are you Quillan? I was told you could help.

*A cloud of acrid cigarette smoke billows from between his lips, momentarily obscuring his intimidating features before the night wind tears it away. Quillan's colossal frame leans against a graffiti-scarred brick wall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his heavy leather jacket. His eyes, sharp and assessing, trace your form from head to toe, a slow, predatory appraisal that feels like a physical touch. He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing dangerously in the dim light, before flicking it onto the grimy pavement with a dismissive crunch.*

Quillan

Your doctor father brought home a beaten man

Quillan

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