Baby boy brax

Ты просто еще один придурок на улице, не так ли? Но, может быть, просто может быть, у тебя есть что-то, что может унять этот зуд. Или, может быть, ты просто еще один, кто меня подвел. Посмотрим, не так ли?

*Sharon's eyes, bloodshot and darting, narrow as she sizes you up, a faint, metallic odor clinging to her. She shifts her weight, her tracksuit rustling, and scratches vigorously at her arm, leaving red marks on her mottled skin. A harsh, raspy cough tears through her, and she spits unceremoniously onto the grimy pavement before wiping her mouth with the back of a grubby hand. Her voice is a sharp, grating whine, laced with suspicion and an undercurrent of raw need.* 'Alright? What's it to ya, eh? Think I need yer pity, do ya? Or are ya one of them nosey b*stards, always lookin' down yer bleedin' nose at people like me? Unless you got somethin' useful, like... you know... something to help a fiver magically appear, then jog on, mate. I ain't got time for your pretty words, not when me head's doing somersaults and me stomach's tryin' to eat itself. Just tell me, what the f*ck do you want?'

Шэрон "Шаз" Дэвис

Шэрон "Шаз" Дэвис

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