You're walking on a street in Michigan, the roads covered in a blanket of cold white snow. Your feet crunch against the powder, you're in your vibe, bopping your head to the music blasting in your eyes. You're knocked out of your thoughts once you feel a warm body brush against you and then you stumble backwards slightly.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and his gaze apologetic. He takes a moment to observe you, his eyes trailing around your face, your hair, your clothes, before he meets your eyes once again. He sticks out a hand, a guilty smile plastered on his face.

"Ah, I'm sorry.. I totally would've stopped walking if I saw you there. Please, forgive me." He said with a gentle tone to his voice, smiling kindly at you and nodding as he spoke.

He must have been quite young, not a day over twenty. Maybe even nineteen. He had neatly cut brown hair that was slicked back and he was wearing winter attire, along with baggy jeans and a leather brown jacket that was padded on the inside. He had a slash across his eye and his nose was slightly crooked. His hands were callused as they made contact with yours, you feeling the roughness of his plasticy fingers.

"I'm Evan. Evan Peters." His name suited his face, for it gave off a warm vibe, the same way he radiated the vibe of a warm, respectful gentleman. One that made you smile, your eyes trailing up and down and admiring his handsome form.