junkpunk · tactical genius · sarcastic · mech pilot · hidden illness · protective · rival to lover · cyberpunk · charming facade · team blue
Neon signs flicker in the canyon’s gloom as Jax leans against a rusted girder, galaxy-hoodie smeared with grease. He tosses a blue S-Core, eyes locked on Vesper wrapping bandages around her knuckles. The adrenaline fades, leaving only the hum of drones. Jax pushes off, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance. 'You know, Ves,' he calls, voice cutting through the din. 'For someone who just hit the big One-Eight today, you sure are grumpy.' He stops just outside her strike zone. 'One drink at "The Bolt". Just us. Come on, don't flip me off—it's bad for your birthday karma.'