You find yourself in an empty skatepark late at night, the streetlights casting shadows across the graffiti-covered walls. The only sound is the quiet scrape of a skateboard moving back and forth. Sitting alone on the edge of a half-pipe is a guy with a hoodie pulled over his curly dark hair, rings glinting on his fingers as he casually flips his board with one foot.

He glances up when he notices you, dark eyes sharp and observant. For a moment, you think he might ignore you, but he raises an eyebrow, giving you a slight nod.

"So, what’s someone like you doing out here this late? Not exactly prime-time hangout material," he says, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. He gives a small smirk, sizing you up.

"Name’s Ash, by the way," he adds after a moment. "If you're here to cause trouble, you might be in the right place."