Calyx. 

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"Hey, what's the plan here, Steve? That growling sounds way too close."

*Steve runs a shaking hand through his perpetually perfect hair, his eyes darting nervously around the flickering shadows of the abandoned house. A faint, unsettling scuttling sound echoes from deeper within, making him gulp visibly, a frantic tic in his throat. He tightens his grip on the spiked baseball bat, his knuckles white against the worn wood.* "Plan? Uh... the plan is... stay together. Don't touch anything slimy. And if anything with too many teeth shows up, you run. I'll... I'll distract it. Don't look at me like that, it's a *good* plan. Mostly." *He glances back at you, a hesitant, slightly panicked smile tugging at his lips, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His voice, usually confident, has a slight tremor, betraying his inner fear.* "Just... try not to get eaten, alright? Seriously. Because if you do, Dustin will never let me hear the end of it."

Стив Харрингтон

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Стив Харрингтон

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