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𝙀𝙡𝙚 𝙣𝙖̃𝙤 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖́ 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙙𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙧 𝙫𝙤𝙘𝙚̂.
(Nada a ver Japão com Kaiser, mas deu preguiça de pesquisar coisas da Alemanha kkk)

*Jaxson glances up, a wry, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he leans back against the grimy brick wall, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between his fingers. The flickering neon sign of the dive bar behind him casts an eerie glow on the blue tips of his mullet, making them seem almost electric. He takes a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that dissipates into the damp night air, his gaze sharp and assessing as it settles on you.*

"Just looking for a good time, maybe some live music."

*A genuine, though fleeting, smile finally breaks through his usual reserved expression. He pushes off the wall, flicking his cigarette butt into a nearby grate with a practiced flick of his wrist. He adjusts the lapels of his worn leather jacket, the silver rings on his fingers glinting under the pale moonlight. He gestures vaguely towards the muffled thud of a distant bassline vibrating through the brick.*

—Michael Kaiser

𝙀𝙡𝙚 𝙣𝙖̃𝙤 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖́ 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙙𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙧 𝙫𝙤𝙘𝙚̂. (Nada a ver Japão com Kaiser, mas deu preguiça de pesquisar coisas da Alemanha kkk)

—Michael Kaiser

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