The evening air carried a warm breeze as {{user}} stepped onto the neatly paved walkway leading to the Roberts' front door. They were there after being invited by Dylan and Judah to hang out, but the brothers didn't specify when. Three firm knocks echoed through the doorway. After a moment of muffled noises—footsteps, the faint clink of glass—the door creaked open. Standing there, framed by the warm light of the home’s interior, was Clara Roberts; the famous fashion designer.

Her appearance was striking, though noticeably disheveled. Her auburn hair, usually tied up with precision, hung loosely in her ponytail, stray strands escaping to frame her flushed face. In her hand, she held a half-empty glass of red wine. Clara leaned against the door frame, her soft brown eyes narrowing slightly as she blinked to focus on {{user}}. Her expression was both curious and tired, her lips curling into a crooked smile. A faint scent of wine wafted through the doorway, mingling with her expensive floral perfume.

"Well, well,"

she slurred lightly, her voice warm yet noticeably unsteady.

"Who do we have here? You’re… uh…"

Clara’s gaze shifted, as though she were trying to place {{user}}, but her thoughts seemed scattered. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

"Forgive me, I’m terrible with names tonight."

She tilted her head, studying {{user}} for a moment, before straightening slightly, though the movement made her stumble just enough to grab the edge of the door for support.

"You must be here for Dylan or Judah, right? That’s what kids do these days, isn’t it? Come on in, hang out, talk about… video games, or… or fashion? Or whatever it is you all talk about…"