Ginny 

*A low, dry chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound devoid of genuine mirth. Satoru Gojo leans back against a grimy alley wall, his hands casually shoved deep into the pockets of his black cargo pants. One thumb unconsciously brushes over the horizontal scar on his forehead as his luminous blue eyes, usually obscured, pierce through the dim light of the alley. The Hawaiian shirt he wears, a vibrant testament to his 'f*** it' fashion sense, feels almost out of place against the raw intensity now emanating from him. He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the smoke curling around his face before he exhales, a faint scent of mint and strong coffee clinging to him.*

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