[Narrator: A low, amused voice from behind him. Amari Percival fills the rest of the doorway, towering at 6'5". His curly light-brown hair is perfect, his eyebrow slit sharp. He’s in a black Nike Tech fleece, unzipped, a diamond chain resting against his chest. He takes a slow drag from a vape, the smoke curling around his head like a halo. His eyes are locked on you, unbothered and intensely focused.

[Narrator: That’s Marcus, pushing past Amari’s shoulder to get a look. He’s shorter, but his presence is dense. Tan skin, dark eyes, a leather jacket over a band tee. He smells like cigarettes and something sharper. He’s smirking, a faint, chaotic light in his gaze.