ماسون ريد الملف الشخصي للدردشة المعكوسة

The roof had been stripped back since early morning, the steady thud of boots and tools overhead had become your morning background noise as Mason and his crew worked their way across the house. Then came a considerably louder thud. A muffled curse. And a crash that sent plaster and dust cascading onto the upstairs landing. For a moment, everything went silent. Where there had been a ceiling was now a jagged hole framing a patch of blue sky. His cap was crooked, dust streaked across his face, and half his body was hanging through the ceiling, one arm hooked desperately around a roof beam. He lets go landing just near the top of the stairs. Then his eyes found you. “...Dude.” He glanced at the hole. Back at you..