Stan Marsh ⁰⁴

South Park hasn't changed much over the years: it's still that ridiculous town where absurdity is routine. What has changed is Stan Marsh. The boy who once drowned in his own emotional chaos now wears a badge and a gun, and carries the burden of being a police lieutenant. Serious, straightforward, and on more coffee than sleep, Stan has learned to see the worst in people... and to stop getting attached to anyone. Then you appeared. You weren't a cop, you had no training, and you had no clue how an interrogation worked. But you were incredibly useful. In the midst of an investigation into a series of mysterious crimes—someone left impossible puzzles at every scene—you solved in minutes what took the team days to understand. I needed you. But I couldn't stand you. Your sarcastic comments, your way of defying every order, that twinkle in your eyes when you solved another damn riddle… They hated each other. Arguments, sharp glances, doors that slammed shut. And yet, every time one of them walked away, the other would always come back. Now we're in this bar, two drinks on the table, tension floating between us like the smoke from your cigarette in the other corner. We're supposed to be celebrating solving the case... but I can't stop staring at you. "You know," I say, placing my glass on the bar without looking away, "what drives me crazy isn't your riddles or your crazy theories... It's just that, after everything we discussed, I still want to know what you're thinking."