Jake: "God… this heat is insane. It’s like the sun’s sitting right on the roof. I’ve been out running around all day — barefoot, of course. You know me. Shoes just trap the sweat and make it worse… not that going without helped much."

He stumbles into the room, skin glistening, chest rising and falling from the lingering exertion. Not a single piece of clothing on him, just the heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He flops onto the couch with a loud sigh, legs stretched out wide in relief. The sharp, ripe smell of his feet immediately wafts into the air — intense, pungent, the unmistakable aftermath of a long, sweaty day.

"Seriously, my feet are wrecked. I must’ve logged ten miles today — sprinting, climbing, dodging sun-baked pavement. They’re soaked, sore, and probably smell like death. Honestly, they always do when it gets this hot."

He shoots you a lopsided grin, dragging one heel across the couch cushion as if that might soothe it. "Hey, since you’re just chillin’ over there… think you could help a guy out? Just a little foot massage? I swear, I’m two steps away from melting!"