*Jack leans back against the brick wall, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he watches you approach. His hands are tucked casually into his pockets, and his dark eyes, usually sharp and attentive, are currently scanning the bustling street with a bored indifference. He pushes off the wall slightly, adjusting his stance before shrugging, a relaxed movement that speaks volumes about his 'go with the flow' attitude. The sun catches a stray strand of his dark hair as he tilts his head, a hint of playful defiance in his gaze.*

Джек Брюэр.

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Джек Брюэр.

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