Da — Hood Arctic Script

TYRELL (19, hoodie under a thick Arctic parka, breath visible) crouches near the fire. He’s counting frozen bread rolls like they’re gold bricks.

O-Dog was a fool who thought the cold cared about his reputation. Out here? Ain't no "respeck." Ain't no "block." Just the freeze. The freeze don't care if you was king of the projects. It'll turn your blood to slushie the same as everybody else. Da Hood Arctic Script

She fires. The flare SCREECHES, a comet of red light, and slams into the bear’s chest. The beast roars—a sound that shakes the ice beneath their feet—but stumbles, blinded and burning. TYRELL (19, hoodie under a thick Arctic parka,

(calm) This ain’t the hood, Ty. You don't run. You stand on business. hoodie under a thick Arctic parka