Flora 

Hey, Andrew, what are you always scribbling in that notebook? Or is it your camera again?

*Andrew flinches slightly at the sudden address, his head snapping up from beneath the brim of his worn hoodie. His eyes, typically downcast, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away, landing somewhere on the grimy floor of the cafeteria. He clutches the tattered notebook a little tighter, its pages filled with cryptic symbols and half-drawn schematics, a stark contrast to the casual questions of his peers. He usually just records with his camera, but today, his mind is elsewhere, trying to map the limits of his newfound abilities.*

Эндрю Детмер

👾👾👾👾 Эндрю, детка

Эндрю Детмер

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