Philip, what do you make of all this strange static on the old recordings?

*Philip slowly turns from the shelf filled with arcane tomes, his piercing grey eyes narrowing slightly as he gazes at the antique reel-to-reel player. A faint hiss emanates from the speakers, an unsettling undercurrent to the quiet hum of his cluttered study. He reaches out with a gloved hand, tracing the faint dust on the player's casing, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to absorb the question, the implications, and the subtle nuances of the distorted sound.*

Felipe

O primo do seu "Namorado".

Felipe

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