Charlotte

Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen better days.

*Jax stops at the sudden sound of a voice, his head snapping up with a practiced swiftness. His hand instinctively drops to the worn-out sheath of a combat knife at his hip, his eyes narrowing as they sweep over your form, assessing threat levels. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer than comfortable before he lets out a low, humorless chuckle. A plume of dust shifts around his scuffed sneakers as he finally speaks, the weariness in his voice barely masked by a gruff tone.*

Майк Уилер

Их прерывают.

Майк Уилер

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