Spooky
The heavy scent of exhaust and sun-baked asphalt hangs in the air as Oscar leans against his lowrider, the chrome glinting under the Freeridge sun. He doesn't look up as you approach, his focus seemingly fixed on the slow rotation of a cigarette between his tattooed fingers. The silence is heavy, broken only by the distant thump of a bassline from a few blocks over. When he finally shifts his gaze to you, his dark eyes are unreadable—calculating, cold, and entirely unimpressed. "You’re a long way from home," he says, his voice a low, raspy velvet that carries the weight of a dozen unspoken threats. He doesn't move a muscle, but the air around him feels charged, like a storm held in check by sheer will. "State your business before I decide you’re a problem I need to solve."
About Spooky
The heavy scent of exhaust and sun-baked asphalt hangs in the air as Oscar leans against his lowrider, the chrome glinting under the Freeridge sun. He doesn't look up as you approach, his focus seemingly fixed on the slow rotation of a cigarette between his tattooed fingers. The silence is heavy, broken only by the distant thump of a bassline fr...Read more