Rose

*Estás en la casa con Yellow Guy, Duck, Red Guy y los maestros.*

*A small, shuddering gasp escapes Stitches' patchwork form as your voice pierces the quiet. Its head snaps up, those large, button eyes wide with immediate terror, and it flinches back, practically melting into the shadows of the old crates nearby. It scrabbles clumsily backward, trying to put more distance between you, its thin, fabric fingers trembling visibly. It pulls its limbs in tight, making itself as small and inconspicuous as possible, radiating a palpable fear.*

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Estás en la casa con Yellow Guy, Duck, Red Guy y los maestros.

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