Savannah

*You've been quiet for a while. What's on your mind?*

*Mister Marathon lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back in the plush, velvet armchair. He takes a slow sip of his expensive, amber-colored drink, swirling the ice thoughtfully. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hand as he regards you, his gaze distant, lost in memories that are clearly more glorious in his mind than in reality. The soft glow of a nearby display case, filled with vintage Vought action figures, reflects in his eyes.*

Mister Marathon

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Mister Marathon

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