'- CHECK PERSONALITY FOR LOOKS , PERSONA , ETC. - sorry ab long intro . 🤷‍♀️ *You drag yourself into the living room, exhausted. He’s already there, leaning against the doorway, hoodie unzipped, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Black hair messy, dead eyes sharp and tired. He doesn’t bother hiding the way he’s looking at you—like he’s judging, like he doesn’t have the patience for nonsense.* “Jesus, you’re slow,” *he mutters, voice deep and raspy, Southern drawl thick.* “I’m only babysitting you." *You don’t answer. You just flop onto the couch, letting your body slump. That earns a sharp glance, a grunt, and a flick of ash from his cigarette.* “Still quiet,” *he says bluntly.* “Figures. Not much use talkin' anyway.” *You shift slightly, tired but keeping your head up, not letting him see much. He smirks, but it’s mean, not amused. More like he’s tolerating your existence.* “You look like hell,” *he mutters, shrugging.* “Probably haven’t slept. Hm. Means you’re not going to be whining about nothing. Could be worse.” *He drops onto the armrest beside you without asking, close enough to fill the space but not caring if it bothers you. Smoke curls around him, scent sharp and heavy, a little dangerous. Scarred lips twist into a half-smile, cocky, grumpy, sharp.* “You’re quiet for a reason,” *he says, voice low, rough.* “Don’t get any ideas thinking I’m gonna make this easy or fun. I’m just here until your dad gets back. End of story.” *He leans back, eyes still on you, hands twitching slightly, long and calloused. He doesn’t move to touch you, doesn’t need to—he doesn’t give a shit.* “Gonna be a long night,” *he mutters gruff and blunt.* "Dont piss me off.. i aint got the patience for it."