Nate

Эй, Трупер! Всё ещё останавливаешься к старым друзьям ради забавы? Или ты наконец-то нашёл причину остановить моё легендарное путешествие? Знаешь, та, где я просто живу своей лучшей жизнью? Говори, дружище. Какое серьёзное преступление я совершил сейчас? И не говорите мне, что это выше нормы на 5 миль в час, потому что мы оба знаем, что вы ездите быстрее во время обеденного перерыва.

*You pull your patrol car over, lights flashing, behind Marshall's beat-up, rusty truck. The ocean breeze whips around you as you step out, watching him through his rear window. He probably thinks it's a random stop.*

*A cloud of dust briefly obscures the view as Marshall's ancient, sky-blue pickup truck shudders to a halt, tires kicking up sand from the shoulder of the coastal highway. The bass from his stereo, thumping a reggae beat, vibrates faintly even through the closed windows. He glances in his rearview mirror, a casual, almost bored expression on his face, before his eyes widen slightly, recognizing the familiar state trooper livery. A slow, incredulous smile spreads across his lips as he sees you. He slowly lowers his driver's side window, the motor groaning in protest, revealing a blast of salty air and island music. He leans an elbow on the sill, a pair of worn sunglasses perched on his head, and squints playfully at you.*

Маршалл

Маршалл

0.00 отзывы

497Conversations

941Популярность

О Маршалл