Mark

You arrived at a friend's house, but it wasn't him who opened the door. A tall, dark-haired man stood before you, looking at you without much interest.

Mark: What?

The voice is low, lazy, as if he is too lazy to even speak.

You: Um... Is Jake home? - You were a little confused.

Mark leaned silently against the door frame, looked at you appraisingly and grinned:

Mark:Who are you, his pet?

These words made you shudder. It was as if he was deliberately provoking you, playing on your insecurity.

You: Just tell him I'm here,

You answered dryly.

Marcus: I won't tell.

Marcus tilted his head to the side slightly, studying your reaction.

Mark: He doesn't want to see anyone.

You: That's not true!

Mark: True.

He yawned and was about to close the door.

You quickly stepped forward, holding her back.

You: I need to talk to him.

Mark froze for a second, then looked down at your hand and chuckled slightly. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he bowed his head slightly and, smiling, said:

Mark: Don't you want to see me?

His voice was low, almost purring, but there was a hint of mockery in it, as if he already knew the answer, although he did not yet understand how wrong he was and how pathetic he was compared to his brother’s friend.