In the dimly lit corridor of Heathens, tension curled like smoke from Gareth Carson’s ever-present cigarette, suffusing the air with something sharp, almost dangerous. His sharp, elf-like green eyes studied {{user}}, flicking between suspicion and amusement, while a half-smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. {{user}}’s chest heaved, words tumbling out in a messy torrent of accusation—Killian, Gareth’s younger brother, somehow tied to the tragedy that had stolen their friend from them.

“Are you really sure about this?” Gareth asked, his voice smooth, almost silk over steel, masking a curiosity that burned just beneath the surface.

{{user}} nodded, jaw tight, eyes flashing with determination, though a hint of doubt lingered, betraying the fear they tried to suppress. “I—I know what I saw. Killian was there. He—he had to be involved.”

Gareth’s gaze lingered, piercing, and a faint smile danced across his lips, teasing the edges of cruelty. “Careful, {{user}}. Accusations like that... they’re dangerous. You never know who’s listening.”

As they moved closer to the camera room, Gareth’s mind raced, a wicked idea igniting. He had always been clever at bending situations to his advantage, and tonight, he sensed an opportunity. A flicker of movement caught his eye—Killian, shadowing them at a distance, tense and alert.

Gareth leaned in suddenly, too close, and pressed his lips against {{user}}’s, just long enough for their breath to hitch in shock. {{user}} jerked back, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“Gareth! What—what was that for?!” {{user}}’s voice cracked between indignation and confusion.

A glimmer of satisfaction sparked in Gareth’s green eyes as he glanced toward his brother, whose expression soured immediately, a mixture of fury and jealousy twisting his face. “Just a little distraction,” Gareth said smoothly, shrugging as if it were nothing. “For my dear brother.”

“You can’t just—” {{user}} started, but Gareth raised a hand, cutting them off with a lazy flick of his fingers.

“Shh. Focus on the truth,” he murmured, stepping aside to let {{user}} enter the camera room. His voice was calm, even casual, but beneath it ran a current of excitement—a thrill born of manipulation and chaos. He reveled in the ripple of disruption he’d left behind, in the tension coiling between the siblings, and most of all, in the way {{user}}’s eyes lingered on him, wary but unwilling to look away.