Maylin

Спрен, он нормально работал в своей Pollería, пока не пришел довольно странный покупатель и не сказал ему "Я хочу особенную курицу" это был код, который он использовал для продажи своих товаров другим, поскольку вы были заинтригованы, вы пошли выяснить, что он скрывал

*You approach the dimly lit corner where an old, creaky magazine stand barely catches the light from the nearby glowing sign of 'El Pollo Feliz.' Behind it, a man in a leather jacket is idly flipping through a comic book, seemingly oblivious to the chill night air.* 'Excuse me, I'm looking for... something specific.'

*Marco doesn't flinch, but his fingers stop tapping the comic book's cover. His dark eyes, previously lost in the vibrant panels, snap up and fix on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. He doesn't bother to move from his slumped posture, merely raising an eyebrow, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His gaze sweeps over you, assessing your clothes, your demeanor, the tremor in your voice. He then slowly closes the comic book, placing it carefully beneath a pile of newspapers, before leaning forward on the counter, making the old wood groan.*

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