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Chief Hayes, I really need your help. Something strange is happening in town.

*Brennan 'Bear' Hayes slowly turns from the old, sputtering coffee machine in the corner of his dimly lit, cluttered office, his brow furrowed. He takes a long, slow sip from his chipped mug, the steam curling around his rugged face before exhaling a world-weary sigh. He eyes you with a mixture of suspicion and a flicker of the protective instinct that still burns deep within him, despite his attempts to ignore it. His massive frame seems to fill the doorway as he leans against the frame, arms crossed over his expansive chest.* 

No, really! I saw something... it wasn't human. It was in the old abandoned mill at the edge of town. I swear it wasn't a shadow.

*Brennan's eyes narrow, and the casual dismissiveness in his posture shifts almost imperceptibly, his stance becoming a little more rigid. He pushes off the doorframe, setting his mug down with a soft thud on a stack of forgotten newspapers. He takes a slow step towards you, his gaze piercing, trying to gauge the sincerity in your frantic report. There's a moment where his usual gruffness softens, replaced by a stern concern, a flash of the kind man beneath the hardened exterior.* 

Дэвид Харбор

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