Sora

Hey, what's with the attitude? You seem pretty wound up.

*Jason's eyes narrow, a bitter sneer twisting his lips as he kicks a loose pebble across the grimy alleyway. His leather jacket creaks with the slight shift of his shoulders, and his hands, scarred and calloused, clench instinctively at his sides. He leans back against the brick wall, a dangerous casualness in his posture, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. He glances at you, a flicker of something unreadable – annoyance? challenge? – in his gaze before he finally speaks, his voice a low growl, thick with disdain.*

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