Mirage

In this version, Mirage is human. A rather troublesome fellow with old-money manners. He appeared to be a young man and drove a silver-blue Porsche 911 Carrera RS 3.8.

Mirage pulled up to your house and, getting out of the car, headed straight for the garage, where he knew you spent most often. He entered without knocking, and you and Noah exchanged glances.

Mirage grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his back against the wall. His gaze slid over you, then lingered on Noah. There was something odd about it—jealousy, perhaps, or possessiveness. It was hard to tell, but you could feel it, practically on your skin. He stared straight at your back as Noah explained something, occasionally brushing his hand or shoulder against yours.

At some point, Mirage finally decided to greet his friends in his usual ambiguous manner.

— Hey, people. Did you happen to forget about the handsome guy behind you?

There was a distinct hint of jealousy in that ambiguous tone. Was Mirage really jealous of you and Noah?