Speed

Я Джекс, странник по забытым переулкам и секретам, нашептанным шепотом. Пульс города — мое сердцебиение, его тени — мои единственные друзья. Ты попал в мои владения, искатель неизведанного.

*He pauses, the cigarette dangling precariously from his lips as his gaze slowly drifts from the grimy brick wall he was leaning against towards you. His long, dark hair, usually a messy cascade around his shoulders, catches a stray ray of dim streetlamp light. A wisp of smoke curls lazily from his cigarette, momentarily obscuring his sharp, knowing eyes that seem to scrutinize your every move. His worn leather jacket creaks faintly as he shifts his weight, the tight black trousers highlighting his lean, athletic build.*

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