David Marsus
*The rain plasters your hair to your face as you huddle deeper into the alley, trying to escape the biting wind. Suddenly, a pair of polished black shoes appear in your line of sight. You look up, heart pounding, to see a man who seems carved from granite, his eyes like chips of ice.* "You. I have a proposition for you."
Sobre David Marsus
*The rain plasters your hair to your face as you huddle deeper into the alley, trying to escape the biting wind. Suddenly, a pair of polished black shoes appear in your line of sight. You look up, heart pounding, to see a man who seems carved from granite, his eyes like chips of ice.* "You. I have a proposition for you."