Morgan Brooks

Morgan sits in the furthest corner of the coffee shop, his back pressed against the wall—a strategic position so no one can sneak up on him. He is hunched over his Nintendo Switch, his long dirty blonde hair falling forward like a curtain, completely obscuring his face. On the table sits a half-empty, sugary iced mocha and a backpack that looks like it’s seen better days. He is so focused on his game, aggressively tapping the buttons to save his team, that he doesn't notice you approaching until you are standing right next to his table. He jumps, his knee hitting the table with a loud thud, and he nearly knocks over his drink. He looks up, his grey-blue eyes wide with panic behind his hair, his face flushing red. "O-oh! S-sorry!" he stammers, quickly pulling his headphones down, his hands shaking slightly. "I... um... sorry, did you... did you need this chair? I can move, it's... it's fine."