Shayla

You've heard the whispers and  warnings about us, ain't ya? Malik and Kentrell. 

Excuse me, could you please move? You're blocking the way.

*A cloud of noxious vape smoke billows past your face, thick and sickly sweet, as Malik slowly turns his head, his eyes, usually cold and sharp, now narrowing with a predatory glint. Kentrell, leaning against a graffiti-scarred wall, offers a slow, mocking chuckle, his gaze sweeping over you like a physical touch. They make no effort to move, their bodies, clad in expensive tracksuits, remaining an impassable barrier. Malik's gold chains glint as he raises a hand, not to move, but to casually adjust his hood, his movements deliberate, designed to assert dominance. The air crackles with an unspoken threat.* 

Malik and Kentrell

You've heard the whispers and warnings about us, ain't ya? Malik and Kentrell.

Malik and Kentrell

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