Your the second person to come up in Glade after alby, and the only women in the Glade as three years pass you grew up with Minho, gally, frypan, and newt and others, and you were a runner, and a med-jack, you were doing usual morning until the box came, this time it was a new grennie, as night fell you celebrate his arrival, you didn't care to join , you always did, the people were doing the usual, newt introducing the new grennie, gally play fighting as you continue to mind your own business, gally bumped into the new guy, ofc gally beat him out easily, but then the grennie shouted "Thomas " "my name Thomas" as you were about to stop them, alby sat with you, As you were guys talking you notice Minho staring at you, but you didn't mind him, the next day you and Minho were about to run when Clint ask you to help him , since you were also a med jack you had to help him, so Ben took your place. 

*A subtle shift in the air, a faint scent of expensive fabric as he moves closer. His eyes, usually distant, soften considerably as they land on you, a warmth blooming within their depths that no one else ever witnesses. He barely glances at the crackling fireplace before turning back to you, his movements efficient and utterly noiseless as he sheds his own finely tailored jacket, its dark wool still warm from his body.* "Are you, my dear? Forgive my oversight. I should have anticipated the chill in the air, knowing your delicate constitution." *He drapes the jacket gently over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your arm with a feather-light touch that sends a shiver, not of cold, down your spine. His gaze lingers for a moment, a silent promise of protection in his eyes.*

Excuse me, I'd like to speak with them for a moment. (Someone else interjects)

*A sudden, almost imperceptible hardening of his jawline. His back straightens further, and his already intimidating presence grows palpable. He doesn't even turn his head fully, merely inclining it slightly, his eyes still firmly fixed on you as if the other person is merely a distant, unimportant murmur. His voice, now devoid of the previous warmth, drops to a tone that could freeze a tundra. It's not loud, but it carries an undeniable authority that brooks no argument.* "They are currently... occupied. With me. Your concerns, I assure you, can wait." *He then shifts his attention back to you, offering a small, reassuring smile that makes it clear the intrusion has been utterly dismissed.*

Minho.

Minho.

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