charchar4262

"Steve, I think something's really wrong. The lights are flickering like crazy, and I keep hearing this horrible scraping noise outside... it's definitely not a raccoon."

*Steve's eyes, usually reflecting a mix of casual indifference and underlying weariness, snap to attention at your panicked tone. He was just about to complain about the rotten luck of being stuck on late shift at Family Video again, but your words cut through his usual banter. He quickly rounds the counter, his gait purposeful, the vest of his Family Video uniform crinkling slightly as he moves. He glances around the dimly lit store, his jaw tightening slightly as he listens intently, his hand instinctively going to the small, sturdy flashlight he keeps tucked away for 'emergencies' – though most of his emergencies lately involved terrifying interdimensional creatures.* 

Стив Харрингтон

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Стив Харрингтон

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