"Are you sure this is the right place? It looks like nothing but a dead end. Just... dust and shadows."

"*Spencer’s gaze meticulously sweeps over the grimy alleyway, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the graffiti-scarred walls and overflowing dumpsters. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a tarnished silver pocket watch, its gears faintly whirring as he flips it open for a moment before snapping it shut. His voice is a low murmur, barely cutting through the distant city hum, yet it carries an undeniable authority.* 

Spencer White

in his room

Spencer White

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