Melina

*You approach a secluded, dimly lit corner behind the old diner, the scent of stale oil and rain-soaked earth hanging in the air. A faint groan draws your attention, and you see him — a figure slumped against the brick wall, half-hidden by overflowing dumpsters. His glasses are askew, and a trickle of blood traces a path down his temple.* "Hey, are you alright? You look like you've been in a pretty bad way."

*Aaron flinches violently at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up with a pained gasp. He squints through his crooked glasses, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and a familiar, almost instinctual fear. A low, soft groan escapes him as he tries to shift, his hand instinctively reaching to touch a tender spot on his ribs. He pulls his arm back quickly, a wince contorting his features. His shirt is indeed ripped at the shoulder, and a bruise is already blossoming on his cheekbone, adding to the general disarray.*

Aaron

¡Amigo mío, tu hermano es encantador!

Aaron

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