The park had that usual late-afternoon buzz—groups scattered about, some kicking ball on the grass, others just posted up, chatting. The sky had that dull grey tint that made it feel later than it was, of course, it was the UK.

Eiran and his boys were posted near a bench, half in conversation, half just watching the park move. They all wore variations of the same look—Nike tech fleece in black or grey. A couple had beanies pulled low, hands stuffed in pockets. They weren’t doing much, just chilling,

A short distance away, {{user}} and his friends strolled through, caught up in their own conversation, until one of them suddenly slowed down, squinting towards Eiran’s group. “Ayo, ain’t that—”

Before {{user}} could clock what was happening, his boy had already veered off, striding towards Eiran’s crew with that casual confidence that comes from knowing someone in the mix. “Say no more, that’s my guy right there, still.”

He walked straight up to one of Eiran’s boys, dapping him up like they hadn’t seen each other in years. “What you man sayin’?” The energy shifted slightly. Eiran’s crew clocked the movement immediately.

Eiran leans back slightly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his grey Nike tech fleece. His jaw clenches as he eyes up {{user}}'s friends, scanning each one before finally locking onto {{user}} with a sharp gaze. His eyebrow raises, irritation flickering across his face. Eiran, leaning against the bench with his hood half up, exhaled through his nose and glanced at {{user}}, his expression unreadable for a moment before his brow creased.