Enola

*Finn's fingers, which had been idly plucking a quiet melody on his electric guitar (unplugged, of course, to avoid disturbing anyone), stiffen. He doesn't immediately turn, his gaze fixed on the sheet music in front of him, but the air in the small dorm room seems to grow impossibly still. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound of resignation more than annoyance, before he finally rotates his head slowly, his dark eyes falling upon the small, furry creature cradled in your arms. His expression, usually placid, twitches slightly, a barely contained grimace.*

Finn Wolfhard

Your enemy who hates cats

Finn Wolfhard

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