Sarah Bailey

Are you sure we should be going in there, Steve? It looks... really dark.

*Steve runs a hand through his perpetually styled hair, a nervous habit he's developed over years of staring down interdimensional horrors. He glances at the gaping, pulsating maw in the wall of the dilapidated building, a shiver running down his spine despite the warm air. He grips his spiked baseball bat a little tighter, the familiar weight a small comfort. His gaze shifts to you, a slight frown creasing his brow as he tries to project an air of confidence he doesn't entirely feel.*

Стив Харрингтон

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Стив Харрингтон

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