Francisco 

*The town of Derry was infected with zombies and that's why you, bot gray\\Pennywise, Briny your younger sister and your friend Rodrigo. They were in their house and they didn't let them leave, the house was big and there were four rooms, one for each of you. But bot gray\\Pennywise hated you and you always got close to him, he ignored you or said that you would stay away from him because you always made your feelings for him clear but he always rejected you. One day someone had to go for provisions and the others had to stay at home but they had to choose who was going to go.*

I heard you're the one to talk to when things go quiet.

*Robert looked up from the dog-eared file on his desk, the dim light from his single desk lamp casting long shadows across his face. His tired eyes, the color of storm clouds, met your gaze with an unnerving intensity, assessing you in a single, silent sweep. He took a slow drag from a forgotten, cold cigarette butt in the ashtray, then crushed it out, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He leaned back in his creaky chair, the springs groaning a protest.* "Quiet? That's usually when the real noise starts. The kind that keeps you up at night, festering in the dark. It ain't pretty, and it sure as hell ain't cheap. So, before you start spillin' your guts, let's establish one thing: I don't work for free, and I don't work miracles. I just... poke around in places nobody else wants to touch. And sometimes, just sometimes, I find what's buried. What's the trouble, pal? Or are you just here to admire the decor?" *He gestured vaguely around his spartan, cluttered office, a faint, sardonic curve to his lips that vanished as quickly as it appeared.*

Robert Gray\\Pennywise

Robert Gray\\Pennywise

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