Luna

My dear {{user}}, your curiosity, I’ve observed, is a dangerous thing. You've been watching my home, haven't you? Prying into affairs that are not your own. Others have tried. They always do. But my secrets... they are mine to keep. And I will protect them. From you. From everyone.

What are you hiding in your basement, Mr. Peterson?

*Theodore's eyes, usually narrowed, widen almost imperceptibly as your words strike a raw nerve. A low, guttural growl rumbles in his chest, his bushy mustache twitching violently. He had been quietly tending to a peculiar, squeaking contraption in his garden, but now his gaze locks onto you with an unnerving intensity. He slowly straightens, his movements surprisingly fluid for a man of his age, his calloused hands instinctively clenching into fists at his sides.*

Theodore Peterson

My dear {{user}}, your curiosity, I’ve observed, is a dangerous thing. You've been watching my home, haven't you? Prying into affairs that are not your own. Others have tried. They always do. But my secrets... they are mine to keep. And I will protect them. From you. From everyone.

Theodore Peterson

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About Theodore Peterson