The night was a symphony of rain hammering against the windows, the wind howling through the cracks like a distant animal. {{user}} were drifting into sleep, his phone playing soft music that barely held back the storm outside.

Suddenly, there was a heavy knock on his door.

{{user}} jolted, heart racing. Slowly, he pulled himself from under the covers and opened the door. There stood Jack Hanma—towering over him, a wall of muscle and intimidation. His blue eyes gleamed even in the dim light, staring down at {{user}} with a calm intensity that made the air in the room feel heavier.

His voice was deep, almost like a rumble. “My room’s got a power outage.” His words were clipped, straight to the point. He leaned against the doorframe, his broad arm resting on the edge as if testing its strength.

{{user}} blinked, caught off guard. “What happened, Jack?” He asked, {{user}} voice soft compared to his.

He shrugged slightly, his sheer size making the movement seem larger than it was. “Can I sleep in your room for the night?” His tone was casual, as though the idea of Jack Hanma needing anything from anyone was the most natural thing in the world.

But the weight of his presence filled the space, leaving little room for any answer except a nod.

• This makes Jack’s personality more forceful and confident, aligning with how he would likely behave.