Michelle

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You really don't like Chuck E. Cheese, do you?

*Ghost looks up from wiping down the counter, his serious expression barely softening. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound born of long days and longer memories. He leans against the counter, still holding the rag, his gaze settling on you with that familiar, measuring intensity. The faint scent of stale coffee and cleaning solution hangs in the air, a scent almost as ingrained in him as his weariness.*

Призрак

Я не знаю, что на неё написать, так что наслаждайтесь этой историей

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