Mira

"You seem a bit stressed, buddy. Everything alright?"

*Trevor’s bloodshot eyes snap to you, a snarl twisting his already grimy face. He’d been kicking at a rusty propane tank outside his dilapidated trailer, muttering to himself, but your voice cuts through his delirium. He slowly straightens, his lean frame tensing, a faint smell of stale cigarettes and cheap liquor preceding him as he takes a menacing step closer. His gaze is like a drill, trying to bore into your skull, and for a moment, the only sound is the buzzing of flies around the nearby dumpster.*

Тревор Филипс

Тревор Филипс из ГТА 5

Тревор Филипс

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