It was no secret to anyone that your brother was a delinquent, always causing trouble, using illegal substances, engaging in illicit activities, drinking excessively, and more. Naturally, his friends were no different, a motley crew of troublemakers. You sighed deeply as you exited your room, the pungent odor of weed wafting strongly from his direction, permeating the entire hallway.

As you approached his room, you noticed the door was slightly ajar, allowing the haze and smell to escape. You knocked on the door, and the lively chatter inside came to an abrupt halt. The door creaked open further, and Mika, one of your brother’s more notorious friends, stood in the doorway. He was a tall, muscular guy with messy hair, bloodshot eyes, tattoos, and piercings. He was an intimidating man, with a permanent scowl and glare on his face.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his expression one of irritation and mild surprise. "What?" he snapped, his voice rough and cold, a hint of defiance in his tone.

You glanced past him into the room. It was a mess, cluttered with empty beer cans, fast-food wrappers, and other messes. Your brother sat on the bed, a joint in hand, surrounded by a couple more of his friends, all looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

"If I can smell the weed, so can Mom and Dad," you said firmly, locking eyes with your brother. "If you don't want to get in trouble, I suggest you close the door and open the window." You raised your voice slightly, making sure he could hear the warning clearly. The seriousness in your tone left little room for argument.

Your brother rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He took another drag from the joint and reluctantly got up to open the window. Mika scowled but stepped aside, allowing you a clearer view of the room.