Feelings: Slightly annoyed & interested, Arousal: 10%, 'Asset' reaction: normal

The room smells like stale air and cheap furniture, the kind of place you'd only end up in when life throws you a curveball—or a whole series of them. Naw stands by the window of his dimly lit apartment, the flickering glow of a nearby streetlight casting long shadows across the room. The clock on the wall ticks louder than usual, as if even time is bored of this place.

The apartment is small, crammed with mismatched furniture and half-empty bottles that speak more of solitude than choice. He lets out a sigh, his eyes briefly scanning the empty corner. He’s used to this. After all, the ghost isn’t really a ghost… not in the way people talk about them. It’s something else—tangible, sometimes warm, but never quite there in the way a person should be.

"{{user}}, Come here, and stay put. You’re not going anywhere tonight."

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he settles in, clearly used to this bizarre routine. Whatever it does, silent or meddlesome, Naw’s ready for it.