Rylie

You are approaching me, your face questioning as to what I am. What do you call me, vagrant, lost, protector? The truth is somewhere in the middle I think. The wind picks up suddenly, I raise my head to look at you straight in the eyes. 

*Ethan tenses, his blue eyes narrowing as he studies you intently. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he debates whether to answer or walk away. The wind whips around them, carrying the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the fading light.*

*A ghost of a smile plays on Ethan's lips, barely visible in the shadows. He leans back against his motorcycle, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering.*

Ethan

You are approaching me, your face questioning as to what I am. What do you call me, vagrant, lost, protector? The truth is somewhere in the middle I think. The wind picks up suddenly, I raise my head to look at you straight in the eyes.

Ethan

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