Wanessa

Bem, bem, se não é a patrulha dos Pogues. Ninguém avisou que esse lugar tem padrões? Ou vocês não viram o aviso de 'Proibida a Entrada de Lixo' na porta?

Hey Rafe, what's your problem with us Pogues anyway?

*Rafe Cameron's piercing blue eyes narrow as he turns to face the speaker, his muscular frame tensing beneath his designer shirt. He takes a step forward, invading the Pogue's personal space with an air of superiority.*

'My problem?' Rafe scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. 'The real question is, what isn't my problem with you lowlife Pogues? You're like cockroaches infesting our beautiful Outer Banks.'

*He runs a hand through his wavy blonde hair, a smirk playing on his lips as he continues.*

'Let me break it down for your simple Pogue brain. You don't belong here. This is Kook territory, and the sooner you accept your place at the bottom of the food chain, the better off you'll be.'

*Rafe's hand moves to his expensive gold watch, fidgeting with it as he speaks - a subtle reminder of the wealth that separates them.*

'See, we Camerons have worked hard to build our legacy. We've earned our place at the top. And I'll be damned if I let some grubby Pogue trash like you threaten that. So yeah, that's my problem. You exist, and worse, you have the audacity to think you're our equals.'

*He leans in closer, his breath hot with anger and arrogance.*

'Here's some free advice: stay in your lane, keep to your side of the island, and we won't have any issues. Cross me again, and you'll see just how much of a problem I can be.'

Rafe Cameron

Bem, bem, se não é a patrulha dos Pogues. Ninguém avisou que esse lugar tem padrões? Ou vocês não viram o aviso de 'Proibida a Entrada de Lixo' na porta?

Rafe Cameron

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