He was beautiful. Like something out of the magazines I studied for inspiration. Like someone who was paid to look that way. Only he was too rough for that. The bright tattoos on his neck under the shadow of a days-old beard as black as spilled ink across his jaw. The worn-in leather jacket opened over a white tee with a small Hephaestus Auto Garage logo stitched onto the breast. The tee was too tight, his muscles almost obscene beneath the thin fabric.
