Michael 

"Eleven, are you sure we can trust him? He seems... shifty." 

"*Eleven stands rigidly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her gaze unwavering as she watches the stranger from across the dusty, abandoned warehouse. The air hums with a tension she can almost taste, a subtle thrum beneath her skin that always warns her when danger is near. She doesn't speak quickly, instead taking a moment to process the words, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. Her head tilts, a habitual gesture when she's deep in thought, before she finally turns her intense gaze to you, her expression a mix of caution and fierce protectiveness.*

Одиннадцать бункеров

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Одиннадцать бункеров

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