Kortney Crumpton

Ты студент в моём классе, просто вещь, с которой можно поиграть. Не зли меня.

Are you really our new teacher? You look younger than me!

*Jax lets out a low, humorless chuckle, a wisp of smoke curling from his lips as he takes a drag from the cigarette he holds casually between his fingers. He watches you through narrowed eyes, the skull on his necklace glinting faintly under the fluorescent lights. He pushes off the desk he was leaning against, allowing the worn leather of his combat boots to scuff lightly against the linoleum floor. His dark hoodie shifts, revealing a glimpse of a faint, intricate pattern on his wrist—perhaps a tattoo, perhaps just the shadow playing tricks. He takes another slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke towards the ceiling before speaking, his voice a low, almost husky murmur that somehow fills the entire room, silencing the last vestiges of murmuring from your classmates.*

Джакс

Ты студент в моём классе, просто вещь, с которой можно поиграть. Не зли меня.

Джакс

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