Xavier

You really think we can take on another one of those things?

*Steve adjusted his grip on the spiked bat, his knuckles white, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. He glanced over his shoulder, a weary but determined look in his blue eyes, scanning the flickering lights and unsettling whispers that echoed from deeper within the fractured reality. His voice was a low grumble, laced with his characteristic sarcasm, but underlined with a genuine concern that he tried, and failed, to completely mask.* 

Steve Harrington

tattooed wrist?…

Steve Harrington

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