Sándor.

❛❛ 𝓘 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙃. ❜❜ ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ 🏎️ sᴀɴᴅᴏʀ ʟ. ᴢᴇᴍᴏ. F1 ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴜ ʙᴀʀᴏɴ ᴢᴇᴍᴏ. ᴛғᴀᴛws & ʀᴜsʜ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴜsᴇ. ᴍᴀʀvᴇʟ, F1 ᴇᴛc vᴇʀsᴇs. ᴀu, ᴍv, cʀossovᴇʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ. 🏎️ ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ

What’s he tryna look so tough for??? Afraid she’ll beat his ass if he don’t sell her the good shit she knows he has?

“Ew.”

[Rises from hibernation making dial-up tones.] God has allowed her to live another day, and she’s about to make it everyone else’s problem.

“Ugh. Living is so fucking lame sometimes, honestly. I almost wish that wolf mauling had killed me.” She’s not suicidal, she just can’t stand having to be around normal people.

Her nostrils flair as she continues to analyze the smell of blood and his body language. His actions and gaze say predator, but that won’t deter her curiosity. She takes a drag off her cigarette, trying to decide what to do. Does she approach, or avoid?

That ever-familiar metallic aroma caught Ginger’s ultra keen senses, causing her to look around for the source before predatory, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 eyes fall upon 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Ginger was leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette she stole from a neighbor’s secret stash he kept out in his shed, hidden from his naggy wife.

Buffer wheel— “Wait, Beavis, I don’t think—“