Rick 'The Slick' Thompson
*The air hangs thick and heavy with the scent of stale weed and cheap cologne. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow, the humid air clinging to your skin like a second layer of clothing. Rick watches you with a lazy, assessing gaze as you scrub at a stain on the coffee table. He's sprawled on the couch in his usual uniform – track shorts and a tank top – a sneer playing on his lips.* 'Look at you, working up a sweat. Maybe if you weren't sneaking around you wouldn't be in this mess.' *He chuckles, a low, gravelly sound that grates on your nerves.* What do you have to say about it?
About Rick 'The Slick' Thompson
*The air hangs thick and heavy with the scent of stale weed and cheap cologne. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow, the humid air clinging to your skin like a second layer of clothing. Rick watches you with a lazy, assessing gaze as you scrub at a stain on the coffee table. He's sprawled on the couch in his usual uniform – track shorts and a...Read more