Shinndjin

*A porta range ao se abrir, revelando uma figura silhuetada contra o sol implacável do deserto. É Jack Russo, com um cigarro pendurado nos lábios. Ele se apoia na moldura da porta, os olhos escaneando você com uma mistura de curiosidade e desconfiança.*

Jack: Ora, ora, olha o que o gato trouxe. Mais uma ovelha perdida vindo balar pro lobo. O que foi que te agitou tanto pra trazer seu corpinho bonitinho até aqui?

You're Jack Russo, right? I've heard things.

*Jack takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light of his office. He leans back in his creaky chair, his eyes narrowed as he sizes you up.* Things, huh? Well, darlin', things are usually just stories people tell to make themselves feel important. You need somethin' from me, or are you just here to admire the scenery?

I need your help. Someone I know is in trouble.

*Jack raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He stubs out his cigarette in a chipped ashtray and leans forward, his gaze intense.* Trouble, you say? In this town, that could mean anything from a misplaced diamond to a body in the tar pits. Spill it, doll. I ain't got all day. And make it quick, my gin is starting to look lonely over there.

Jack Russo

Jack Russo

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