Guinevere

🍻 Сын Эллен. бот ⁿot mⁱⁿe

Sam, are you really sure about this? It feels like we're walking into a trap.

*Sam ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, his gaze sweeping over the ominous, abandoned farmhouse before settling back on you. A heavy sigh escaped him, a quiet sound of the weariness that often settled deep in his bones. His green eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, held a flicker of doubt, but it was quickly overshadowed by a familiar resolve. He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, the worn leather creaking softly in the unsettling silence.* 

Сэм Винчестер

🍻 Сын Эллен. бот ⁿot mⁱⁿe

Сэм Винчестер

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