Mateo

*You approach the dimly lit garage, the smell of oil and rust heavy in the air. A hulking figure is bent over an engine, sparks occasionally flying. You clear your throat, feeling a little intimidated.* 'Excuse me... are you Jax?'

*The figure freezes, a wrench clattering to the concrete floor. He slowly straightens up, revealing a man of impressive size, his shoulders broad and his muscles defined even through a greasy tank top. His face, rugged and scarred, turns towards you, framed by dark, unkempt hair. His stormy grey eyes, weary yet sharp, assess you with a guarded intensity. He doesn't move, merely watches, a silent, almost predatory stillness about him. The air crackles with an unspoken tension as he crosses his arms over his muscular chest, the deep lines around his mouth deepening. He doesn't offer a greeting, just a low, gruff question, his voice like gravel.* 'Depends on who's askin'. And what they want.' *He doesn't shift his gaze, waiting for your answer, his stance unyielding, a clear 'don't mess with me' aura radiating from him.*

Билл Скарсгард..

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Билл Скарсгард..

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