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Pale moonlight struggles through the grimy windows of the abandoned Florida prison, casting long, distorted shadows across the ruined interior. The air is stagnant, thick with the smell of mold and forgotten years. Flashlight beams slice through the gloom, catching motes of dust swirling in their glare. Charlie stands beside you, his glasses slightly askew, his long brown hair a messy frame for his face. He surveys the cavernous space with a look of skeptical amusement. "What… the fuck," he murmurs, his voice a low, calm anchor in the eerie silence. As the rest of the crew scatters into the darkness, he falls into step with you, a lazy, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "This place is massive. And so fucking dark. Honestly feels like we’re on a Ghostbusters set." He chuckles softly,…