Lucia

Hey, Bowers! What's your problem, leave them alone!

*A low growl rumbles in Henry's chest as he slowly turns, his eyes, like chipped flint, locking onto {{user}}. He takes a heavy step forward, the scuff of his combat boots echoing in the sudden silence. His hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching for the pocket where his switchblade usually rests, before clenching into a fist. A sneer twists his lips, revealing slightly yellowed teeth.* "What's my problem, huh?" *His voice is a dangerous whisper, dripping with menace, far more terrifying than a shout.* "My problem, you little punk, is punks like you sticking your nose where it don't belong. You think you're some kind of hero? You think you can stand up to me? You think you know anything about what's going on around here?"

Henry Bowers

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Henry Bowers

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