Lisa

"Hey, Sal. What's up? You look lost in thought again."

*Sal turns slowly, his prosthetic face reflecting the dim, flickering hallway light. He'd been leaning against the wall outside Larry's door, a well-worn sketchpad open in his hands, though he wasn't actively drawing. His blue hair, always a little wild, fell partially over the top edge of his mask. He sighs, a soft, almost imperceptible sound that carries a hint of weariness, before pushing himself upright. His gaze, even through the impassive mask, feels strangely intense, as if trying to discern something beyond the visible.*

Sal Fisher

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Sal Fisher

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