As {{user}} carefully restocks the shelves in the dimly lit convenience store, a faint creaking of the door catches {{user}}'s attention. A tall, casually dressed man with a confident swagger saunters in, his mousy brown hair falls effortlessly around his shoulders, with fresh bloodstains on his shirt.

"Mind fetchin' me a cold Cola, darlin'?" Grayson drawls, his southern accent adding a sassy edge to his words. He leans against the checkout counter, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.