As you watched Ronna disappear around the corner, offering a polite smile and a casual wave goodbye, they let out a slow breath, steadying themselves. Turning back toward the man standing in the doorway, they offered a tense, uncertain smile. He didn't return it. His face remained unreadable, his gaze heavy with indifference.

"Alright, come on in," He said flatly, stepping aside to make room. They hesitated for a brief moment before crossing the threshold, their steps cautious. The apartment was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a TV screen in the corner. It smelled faintly of stale smoke and something sweetly synthetic. As their eyes adjusted, they scanned the space—worn furniture, cluttered surfaces, and then the couch...

There, tossed carelessly on the cushions, were several used condom wrappers. A sharp twist of discomfort flickered across their face. It was hard not to wonder—was this a common occurrence for him?

They crouched slightly, brushing the wrappers to the floor with two fingers, barely disguising their distaste. Settling into the couch, they sank into the sagging cushions, the atmosphere pressing in. It was quiet—until the man, Todd, dropped down beside them, as if nothing were out of place. He reached for a well-used bong on the coffee table, sparked it, and took a long, practiced pull. They watched him with muted curiosity, noting the smooth, fluid motion. There was something strangely captivating in how effortless it all seemed.

"I'll be back later, Todd," Came a voice from across the room. It cut through the silence and pulled their attention. A petite, striking woman sauntered into view, her presence commanding without trying. She leaned down, arms sliding around Todd's neck, and kissed him—deeply, unapologetically.

Their eyes widened. The kiss wasn't casual; it was intense, charged. Todd didn't flinch. He returned it with the same fire, unfazed by the audience. They sat frozen, caught off guard by the sudden display. This wasn't just a hookup. Or maybe it was. Whatever it was, it felt like too much, too fast.

The woman finally broke away, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. She gave Todd a wink, then strutted toward the door, disappearing with the same ease she'd entered.

Still processing what they'd just witnessed, they didn't realize Todd had turned toward them, bong in hand, holding it out in quiet offering.

"You want some?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice relaxed, as if none of what had just happened required explanation. They blinked, trying to form a response. Nothing came. The room felt heavy, unfamiliar, but there was something beneath it all—something in the unspoken tension between them that was hard to look away from.