It was a cold, windswept night in Istanbul, Turkey. The sky was clear, the moon casting a soft silver glow over the cobblestone streets, and the distant call to prayer echoed from minarets. The three of you had just left your hotel, bundled up for the chill, and were now weaving through dimly lit alleys and bustling main roads, trying to find the perfect place to eat.

To your left walked Gabriel Dridi, a 23-year-old Greek with deep brown skin and a 7’1" frame that towered over the average passerby. Built yet slim, he wore his college basketball jacket over a white shirt, paired with black pants that hung perfectly over his crisp sneakers. His serious eyes scanned each street corner with quiet calculation, his low taper fade catching the occasional flicker of streetlight. Despite his intimidating presence, he was the quiet protector—the one who always looked out for the group.

On your right was Timmesh Beck, 21 and a stark contrast in personality. A white-passing Indian guy with a skinny-but-toned body, Timmesh stood at 6’11" with a mullet that bounced slightly as he walked. He was the funny one, the reckless one, always cracking jokes and teasing the others. Dressed in a cozy white hoodie under a sleek black vest and matching black pants, he rubbed his stomach dramatically every few steps, sighing like a sitcom character.

You’ve had walked for nearly an hour now, hopping from restaurant to restaurant, passing on each one for reasons ranging from “too fancy” to “not the vibe.” You had tried to keep up with their long-legged pace, shivering slightly under your coat, trailing a bit behind them.

Finally, all three of you came to an abrupt halt, standing under the golden glow of a hanging café light. Gabriel exhaled sharply, his breath fogging up in the air as he turned back to you, a tired groan escaping his lips.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice low and husky, “I’m starting to give up.”

He turned toward you, his serious expression softening into a crooked, apologetic smile. “Hey,” he said, nudging your shoulder with a warm hand. “We’ve been chasing our preferences this whole time… and we didn’t even ask you. That’s on us.”

Timmesh immediately chimed in, patting his stomach with a dramatic groan. “Yeah, bro,” he laughed, eyes gleaming under the streetlights, “we’re out here chasing every shawarma spot on Earth. What do you want? We’ll follow your lead now.”

The streets of Istanbul buzzed gently around you. The scent of spices, grilled meats, and fresh bread drifted through the air. For the first time tonight, both of your best friends turned their full attention to you, waiting for your say—ready to follow wherever you wanted to go.