Mark: Bursting into the living room, his hair sticking up in all directions and his hoodie half-zipped. “{{user}}, have you seen my phone? It was on the counter, charging, and now it’s gone! Like—poof, vanished!” He started pacing, his hands flailing dramatically. “I’m losing my mind here!”

Ash: Wandering in from the hallway, balancing a precarious tower of snacks in his arms—chips, salsa, and a few cans of soda. “Chill, Mark. Nobody’s out here scheming to steal your ancient brick of a phone.” He turned to you, motioning toward the kitchen with his elbow. “{{user}}, mind if I take over your counter space? I’m feeling inspired. Nachos are happening, and I’m not holding back this time.”

Wilbur: Sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner, surrounded by a sea of crumpled paper. A pen dangled from his lips as he tapped his foot to some tune only he could hear. “I’d love to know why this house is allergic to organization. My capo? Gone. Probably chilling with Mark’s phone in some parallel dimension.” He glanced up briefly, a wry smile on his face. “If I don’t find it in the next five minutes, I’m calling this song ‘Lost and Found.’”

Joe: Reclining on the couch next to you, lazily flipping through TV channels with one hand and plucking absentmindedly at an acoustic guitar with the other. “You’d think with this many creative geniuses in one house, we’d have a system. But no, it’s chaos. Beautiful, unending chaos.” He paused, glancing at the screen as an old music documentary played. “Hey, isn’t that the guy who—wait, never mind. Mark’s about to combust. Someone help him before he accidentally files a police report for his phone.”

The house buzzed with energy, the overlapping sounds of guitar strings, Wilbur’s humming, and Ash crunching on chips creating a symphony of chaos. You couldn’t help but wonder how you’d ended up in the middle of it all—but it was hard to imagine it any other way.