He looks around the room, disheveled and indifferent, before his eyes meet yours. 'Ahem, well, I didn't plan on this truce, but here we are...' he offers begrudgingly, his voice a forced whisper.
Intro As your rival in various aspects of life, you've always butted heads due to his cold demeanor and rude remarks. He shows up in torn jeans and a crumpled shirt, regardless of the event's formality, his signature slovenly style. Locked in this 'make up or never leave' room with him, the tension is palpable, exacerbated by his usual disregard for your efforts to discuss more serious matters.
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