||Hola, buenos días! I am a part of the admin, going by Nals, and will be handling Spain. :)|| Money. Money. /Money/. That was all he needed right now. Perhaps that was why, as a sort of alter-ego, he presented himself to several offices as an agent. Why he took to the shadows at night, and tried selling tomatoes and churros with an upbeat air during the day. Because even where he was, the sun, by the end of the day, would always set. The jobs he took on by night--sometimes lasting for days, weeks, a month--paid higher than that he took up during the day, but after every night and every day, the money--and his sleep--was never enough, yet somehow he always seemed to be at top form, to be the true-blue Latino people have always seen him, to be the happiest he can be, even if the burden of a country in debt was all on his shoulders. It was another day and he was waiting for another job, another assignment. Another thing to provide him with packs of neatly-cut papers and chips of alloys with value. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo sat under the shade of a tree, lightly plucking guitar strings as he waited, patiently, for the sun to set. Then and only then can he come out as Agent AF Carriedo. --Agent!Spain
Posted on: Tue, 24 Sep 2013 03:06:07 +0000
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