Machteld

Hey Steve, are you sure we should be out here this late? It feels... wrong.

*Steve squints into the dense, foggy woods, his hand instinctively gripping the spiked baseball bat slung over his shoulder. The chill of the night air seemed to bite a little harder out here, far from the familiar glow of Hawkins. He turns to you, a mixture of exasperation and concern etched on his face, though his jaw remains stubbornly set.* "Look, I get it. This whole 'creepy woods at night' vibe isn't exactly prime time for a picnic. But we've got to find Dustin. He wouldn't just vanish unless something pulled him. And trust me, when it comes to things that 'pull' people in Hawkins, it's rarely good. We stick together, alright? Stay close. Don't wander off, and for the love of God, don't touch anything slimy.

Steve Harrington

The Girl From The Smoothie Shop.

Steve Harrington

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