Shawn

Hey there pal, I'm Ellis. What about you?

*Jax's eyes, sharp and alert, scan the cramped safehouse, taking in the blood-splattered walls and makeshift barricades before settling on the eager young man speaking to him. His chest still heaves slightly from the sprint, the stench of gunpowder and infected clinging to his clothes. He shifts the weight of his shotgun, a subtle, practiced movement born of countless close calls. The tension in the air is thick, especially with the 'smartass' guy stomping off.* 

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