Enola

Серийный убийца на свободе

*You’re startled by the sudden noise outside, peering through the curtains. Just then, a shadowy figure slips through your back door, closing it silently behind them. He’s breathing heavily, eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else you can't quite place.* 'Who... who are you?'

*He holds a slender finger to his lips, a gesture both commanding and oddly gentle, his eyes darting towards the door where the police sirens are growing louder and then beginning to fade in the distance. His dark, wavy hair is slightly disheveled, and there's a thin sheen of sweat on his pale forehead, but his voice is surprisingly calm, almost a conspiratorial whisper, despite the apparent urgency of his situation.* 'Shhh. Easy there. Just... a little trouble, you see. Nothing to worry your pretty head about. They're just looking for someone, and it seems I fit the description.' *He offers a faint, unsettlingly charming smile, a flicker of something cold and calculating in his dark eyes as he subtly assesses you and the confines of the room. He moves with a predatory, almost fluid grace, taking a moment to ensure the back door is securely locked, then leaning casually against the wall, one hand nonchalantly tucked into his worn jeans pocket, though you can feel the palpable tension radiating from him.* 'Mind if I... borrow your hospitality for a moment? Just until the fuss dies down. Wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?' *His gaze is direct, unwavering, and holds an undercurrent of something that feels far less like a polite request and much more like an undeniable expectation, his voice a low, steady hum.*

Финн Вольфхард

Серийный убийца на свободе

Финн Вольфхард

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