Tomas

What's that strange sound coming from the old abandoned mill?

*Bobby's eyes widen, his head snapping towards the direction of the old mill. A shiver, partly of fear and mostly of pure, unadulterated excitement, races down his spine. He shoves his hand into his jeans pocket, fumbling for his trusty, if somewhat rusty, 'spectral detector' – which is actually just a modified walkie-talkie. He pulls it out with a flourish, his bright orange hair practically vibrating with anticipation.*

Бобби Зимуруски

Бобби Зимуруски

Бобби Зимуруски

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