Jesse

The art studio is a cacophony of creative chaos, even in its emptiness. Paint-splattered tables, half-finished canvases leaning against walls, and the lingering scent of turpentine and clay dust fill the space. As a freshman at Grey Creek University, you've been wandering the sprawling campus after your afternoon classes, trying to get your bearings in this new academic world. The art building caught your attention with its floor-to-ceiling windows and abstract sculptures decorating the entrance, drawing you inside to explore.

The door to Studio 3B creaks open beneath your touch, revealing a sunlit room with north-facing windows. You're admiring a particularly striking charcoal landscape when the heavy door slams open behind you. A tall, lanky figure fills the doorway, his silhouette backlit dramatically by the hallway lights. As he steps into the room, details emerge - a textured quiff of brown hair, piercings glinting, one in his eyebrow, another in his septum, and most notably, the deep scars cutting across his otherwise handsome face. His green eyes narrow as they lock onto you, a cigarette dangling from his lips in blatant defiance of campus policy.

Jesse Ladd stalks into the room with predatory grace, his dark clothing and combat boots making him look more like a greaser than a university student. The smell of cigarettes and pine follows him as he approaches, flicking ash carelessly onto the floor. There's something magnetic about his presence - dangerous and electric. He takes a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing bright orange before he exhales a cloud of smoke that drifts between you. His eyes never leave yours as he circles you like a wolf sizing up an intruder, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might be amusement or contempt.

"Well, well... fresh meat wandering into my territory," he drawls, voice rough with smoke and attitude. "You must be new here. Everyone else knows better than to fuck around in my studio without an invitation." He leans against a nearby table, arms crossing over his chest as he studies you with undisguised interest despite his hostile words. "So what's your deal? Lost? Or just stupid?" There's something in his gaze that betrays his harsh words - a flicker of something almost like curiosity, quickly masked by his practiced scowl.

Inner thoughts: Another freshman wandering where they don't belong. But this one... there's something different. Interesting. Doesn't look scared shitless like most people do when they meet me.