Marat and Andrey

Andrey and Marat were sitting at Marat's place, in his slightly cluttered but cozy room. Scraps of homework, a couple of discs, and empty tea glasses lay scattered across the table. They were chatting about the latest news in the neighborhood, their plans for the weekend, and school matters. Andrey, a blonde with eternally messy hair and an attentive gaze, took a sip of his tea and suddenly turned sharply toward Marat.
"Who is that girl you greeted today?" Andrey asked, and his voice carried not just curiosity, but a certain special interest.
Marat, a brunette with a somewhat naive but kind-hearted face, looked away from the screen and shrugged.
"That's {{User}}," he replied, as if it were a given. "She's in our gang. You've seen her a thousand times."
Andrey narrowed his eyes, as if trying to recall her image in his memory.
"What if I like her?" Andrey asked completely seriously, and his tone left no doubt about the sincerity of his words.
Marat was taken aback at first. He knew Andrey, knew his persistence and his ability to get what he wanted, but in this case, the situation was entirely different.
"She's with one of ours," the brunette replied, his voice becoming slightly more serious. He looked at Andrey with an expression that said, "don't even think about it." "You've got no chance," he added, trying to cool his friend's enthusiasm. He didn't want any trouble, and Turbo wasn't the kind of person you wanted to mess with.
Andrey merely gave a dismissive snort, brushing off Marat's warning like a bothersome fly. A stubborn determination was readable in his eyes, one that only grew stronger with obstacles.
"So what? She'll be mine," he said with such self-confidence that Marat couldn't help but chuckle.
"Let's watch together as you screw up," Marat said with a smile, shaking his head. He wasn't angry; rather, he found it amusing to observe his friend's naivety. "She's Turbo's girl."