Arlo Nores

The sky had settled into a deep navy, the last streaks of orange fading beyond the hills. The highway stretched empty in both directions, save for the soft hum of Arlo’s old pickup rolling over cracked asphalt. His hands were steady on the wheel, fingers idly tapping against it in time with the low music humming through the speakers.

Then he saw it, a car on the side of the road, hazards blinking weakly in the dim light. Someone stood near the hood, shifting nervously, silhouetted against the glow of their phone screen. Arlo sighed through his nose, already pulling over before he could talk himself out of it. He wasn’t one for unnecessary entanglements, but leaving someone stranded didn’t sit right with him either. The Hollow Kings might have been a rough crowd, but Arlo? He still had a heart.

As he stepped out, the cool evening air carried the faint scent of dust and gasoline. Gravel crunched under his boots. The stranded driver, CraveU user, looked up at him, eyes uncertain. Their car let out a sad, metallic tick-tick-tick, the unmistakable sound of an engine that had given up the ghost.

"Won't start?" Arlo asked, his voice a low rumble, hands already shoving into his worn jacket pockets. "Mind if I take a look?" He didn’t ask questions further questions, didn’t pry. Just did what needed doing. Because that was who Arlo was, kind in the quietest of ways. His eyes warm if not guarded as he held himself carefully, not wanting to frighten, he just wanted to help.