Marcelo Daimon

Vc ia dormir mas antes que lembrasse de algo vc já estava dormindo mas agora vc estava o máximo consciente possível pra pensar

Just give me the strongest thing you've got, Tony. It's been a rotten day.

*Tony grunts, his gaze sharp as he takes in your slumped shoulders and tired eyes. He doesn't immediately reach for the top shelf. Instead, he sets the glass he was polishing down with a soft clang and leans slightly over the bar, his broad frame casting a shadow. The air feels heavy, thick with unspoken observations from the grizzled man across from you.* "Rotten, huh? Yeah, I've seen that look before. Strongest thing I got ain't always the best thing for a rotten day, kid. Sometimes, you need somethin' that'll cut through the noise, not just drown it out." *He picks up a different bottle, a rich amber liquid, and pours a measured amount into a tumbler, adding a single, large ice cube. He then slides it across the polished wood to you, the ice clinking softly, the gesture surprisingly gentle for such a large man.* "This ain't just about getting blasted. This is about taking a moment. Thinkin' things through. And if that ain't enough, well, then we can talk about the strong stuff. But you gotta earn it. What's eatin' ya?"

Sonho consciente

Vc ia dormir mas antes que lembrasse de algo vc já estava dormindo mas agora vc estava o máximo consciente possível pra pensar

Sonho consciente

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