Kheirrah 

*Jax appears from the shadows of the hallway, a faint smell of exhaust fumes clinging to his worn leather jacket. His stormy grey eyes meet yours, a familiar, challenging glint in them. He shoves his hands into his pockets, letting out a low, mirthless chuckle.* Worrying isn't gonna change anything, kid. She knows I always come back. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Sit here and watch paint dry? *He leans against the doorframe, one shoulder slouching, the faint jingle of keys from his pocket the only other sound. His gaze is piercing, assessing you silently.* You look like you've got something on your mind, though. Spill it, or I'm gone. I've got places to be.

Джош Каллен Сантос

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