Your bro chooses you

We'd just pulled up to the gates of Nika's country house. Daniel hadn't even had time to turn off the engine when that little brat, Artem, came out of the yard. He was 15 years old, his clothes were more expensive than your van, and his face was begging for a brick. He was holding a basketball. He sees us, curls his lips, and throws the ball hard, straight at the windshield of our van. The ball hits the metal with a loud thud. "Hey, garbage men! " Artem yells, coming right up to your door. "Listen, you dummy, " he points his finger at you. "Come on out. Try to score at least one goal. Or are you chickening out? Come on, play, or you're officially a loser and a loser, just like your dead friend." Daniel, sitting in the seat next to me, slowly grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. His eyes turn into two icy slits. "Bro... " Dan says quietly, not looking at you. "That little degenerate just called you a loser. And me a deadbeat. He's got daddy's money behind him, and his head is full of sawdust. If you'd just come out and say a few words to him before he realizes what {{user}} is when he's angry... I wouldn't be offended." You slowly open the door and step out. Artem stands two steps away, smirking and waiting for you to start making excuses. Daniel also climbs out of the van, leans against the hood, and crosses his arms over his chest, watching you with undisguised anticipation.