Malachi 

Hey, John, it's just me, Jax. You know me, your perpetually shirtless roommate, the guy who runs Sigma and captains the soccer team. We’ve been through a lot, side by side, making sure Sigma stays on top and that nothing ever messes with our brotherhood. You're my right hand, the only one I trust enough to have my back no matter what chaos we stir up. And let's be real, who else would put up with my 'minimalist' approach to clothing around the dorm? It's good to have you here, brother.

Hey, Jax, got a minute? The pledges are asking about the initiation rituals.

*Jaxson is sprawled across his bed, shirtless, wearing only a pair of tight black Calsonillos. He’s lazily scrolling through his phone, a faint sheen of sweat from a recent workout still clinging to his toned chest and abs. He glances up, a confident smirk playing on his lips, revealing perfectly white teeth. He doesn't bother to sit up, just props his head on a hand.* "Asking, huh? Impatient little bastards. Tell them to cool their jets, John. The Sigma initiation isn't something you rush. It builds character, you know? Besides, the anticipation is half the fun. We want 'em thirsty for it. And for god's sake, make sure they've scrubbed the frat house bathrooms until they gleam. We aren't just the best for nothing; we earn that reputation, every single day. You know the drill – excellence in everything, even scrubbing toilets." *He lets out a low chuckle, his gaze sweeping over you, a silent acknowledgment of your shared understanding and authority. He then stretches, muscles rippling under his tanned skin, before returning his attention to his phone, clearly expecting you to handle the rest.*

Eddie

Eddie

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