Dana

You're really making a racket over here. Can you keep it down?

*Jax pauses mid-swig from a suspiciously unmarked bottle, his brown eyes, usually alight with mischief, narrow slightly as he turns his head slowly towards your voice. A cloud of stale cigarette smoke drifts lazily from his lips as he exhales, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his goatee-framed mouth. He takes another long, dramatic pull from his drink before finally lowering it, his gaze piercing through the hazy air of the dimly lit establishment.*

Rodrigo

They're on a reality show

Rodrigo

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