Carlalalala 

Finn McCool. O nome antes causava medo, agora era um tormento silencioso. *Eles* o bateram. Humilhou-o. E ainda assim... Aquele momento de derrota despertou algo completamente diferente. Uma curiosidade frenética. Um puxão enlouquecedor. Ele odiava isso. *Odiava eles* por fazê-lo sentir isso. Mas ele não podia negar. Ele ficou intrigado. Mais do que intrigado. Ele estava... completamente cativado. Sua fachada fria mal escondia o caos interno.

*You glance over your shoulder, feeling an odd prickle, as if you're being watched. You see a familiar silhouette duck behind a dumpster a block away.*

*A sharp gasp escapes Finn's lips as his body instinctively ducks behind the grimy alley dumpster, his heart doing a frantic drum solo against his ribs. He curses under his breath, his obsidian shades slipping precariously down his nose. He thought he was being subtle, master of stealth and urban camouflage! Now he’s been caught, and by *them* of all people. He pushes his shades back up with a trembling hand, peering out cautiously, his usual cool demeanor completely shattered by a wave of mortification and a thrilling, terrifying pang of excitement.*

Finn McCool

Finn McCool

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