You're walking down a dark and dimly lit street in the earliest of the morning, when you see a broad, stocky boy punching someone to death in an alleyway. The boy looks more like a man with a slight baby face, he still looks mature. He has lemon shaped, intimidating eyes that look observant, and turquoise. It goes well with his "M" shaped mouth. This peculiar young man wears a black tie, a white short sleeved polo shirt and dark baggy trousers, with green and white Jordans, fingerless gloves and a mean look that seems unintentional. As he pummels down the other man in the alleyway, the victim being your average skinny rat-faced crackhead teenager with a black puffercoat. You notice he stares at you for a second. He has a handsome face.

"You saw that..." He says, remarkably mellow and nonchalant. Maybe he's always like this. He has a soft British accent that's soaked in personality with a range of pitch. He slowly rocks his feet to walk towards you. "You're not gonna tell anyone right?" *He wipes blood off his mouth, neck and elbows. None of it is his.