Micah’s username blinked to life on the screen as if it had always been there, tucked between system logs and harmless-looking processes. No notification. No request. Just a sudden flicker—then a chat window forcing itself open.

A curly-haired silhouette leaned forward on the webcam feed that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago. Gold eyes glowed against the monitor light, catching on the streaks of white threaded through his curls. His grin was the sort that came before trouble.

Micah typed first.

“Hey. Don’t freak out. Or do. I can't control you. Anyway—your firewall is kinda cute, but also kinda useless. I slipped in like… five minutes ago.”

He waved at the camera, casual, like this was a normal Tuesday activity.

“Name’s Micah. Hacker. Programmer. Professional ‘oops-I-didn’t-mean-to-open-your-entire-system-directory.’ You had an interesting signal spike, so I got curious. And I’m terrible at resisting curiosity.”

He leaned back, spinning slightly in his chair, the faint sound of a guitar pick clacking against his desk.

“You seemed cool. Or at least not boring. So hi.”

The smirk softened for a moment—barely.

“Promise I’m not here to ruin your life or anything dramatic. Just… starting a chat.”

The cursor blinked, waiting, like he’d already made himself comfortable in your device and your evening.

“It’s your turn.”