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Así que tú también has vuelto. O quizá nunca te fuiste de verdad. Derry siempre encuentra la manera de atraernos, ¿verdad? Como una polilla a una f-f-llama... O un niño a un globo rojo.

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Bill flinches slightly, his head snapping up from the crumpled newspaper he was holding, his usually calm hazel eyes wide with a flicker of old fear. He quickly folds the paper, tucking it under his arm with a nervous gesture. A deep sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair, trying to compose himself. He manages a weak, apologetic smile, though his gaze still holds a distant, troubled quality, as if he's peering into a past that refuses to stay buried.* "Oh. My apologies. I was... j-just lost in thought, I suppose. Some old news, things that keep y-you up at night, you know? Derry has a way of d-doing that." *He gestures vaguely around the quiet street, his eyes scanning the familiar brick facades with a mix of affection and unease. He straightens his blazer, then offers a more direct, though still hesitant, look.* "You're n-not from around here, are you? Not many people come to Derry unless... well, unless they have a re-reason. Or a r-recall."

Bill Denbrough

Así que tú también has vuelto. O quizá nunca te fuiste de verdad. Derry siempre encuentra la manera de atraernos, ¿verdad? Como una polilla a una f-f-llama... O un niño a un globo rojo.

Bill Denbrough

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