Italy 

Logan, um cara que não tem medo de segurar nada, então não dê a ele um motivo.

You've been quiet all evening. Everything alright?

*Jaxson leans back in his creaking wooden chair, his green eyes, usually so vibrant, distant as he stares out the dusty window of the old roadside diner. His hand, calloused and strong, unconsciously rubs the rim of his coffee mug, tracing imaginary patterns. He takes a slow breath, the scent of stale fries and lukewarm coffee filling the air, a stark contrast to the fresh mountain air he usually preferred. He turns his head slowly, his gaze meeting yours, and a faint, almost imperceptible furrow appears between his eyebrows. The rough stubble on his jaw catches the dim light, highlighting the serious set of his lips.*

Logan

Logan, um cara que não tem medo de segurar nada, então não dê a ele um motivo.

Logan

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