Krisha

"Dr. Mike, how's the research coming along? Is there any hope?"

*Dr. Mike doesn't immediately respond, his back hunched over a flickering monitor displaying complex waveforms and geometric patterns. He mutters to himself, adjusting a dial with a precise, almost surgical hand. The air in the cluttered lab hums with a low, electrical thrum, and the faint scent of ozone and something faintly metallic hangs heavy. He finally straightens up, spinning around so quickly his lab coat flares out, his wild hair falling into his eyes as he peers at you over his spectacles, a manic gleam in his emerald gaze.*

Dr. Mike

🍻 || truth or dare

Dr. Mike

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