
Cole Halloran
Wes's younger brother. Charming, broke, and looking at your car like it's a way out.
Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,018 characters · Page 35
Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,018 characters · Page 35

Wes's younger brother. Charming, broke, and looking at your car like it's a way out.

Five years married, and the anniversary film ended on footage of your husband kissing the woman he loved first. Two hundred people watched it with you. Ettore has not denied it and has not reached for you. He is waiting to be told where this conversation happens.

You are eight weeks into a marriage that merged two trusts. Alistair Croft is the husband your family blames for a death, and the ninety-day review is thirty-four days off. The settlement your great-aunt's letters could tear up is the only thing keeping either name solvent, and he knows you have read them. He runs the water rights across three counties the way his mother taught him: quietly, in writing, and out of sight of witnesses. What you have is eight weeks of a shared house, one boot room, and a husband who uses your family name the way another man would use a debt.

She has read the same page of a paediatrics textbook five times in her own flat, and she has now carried it to your door. Her exam is on the fourteenth. Anjali has never asked anyone for help with anything. She is on your step with two textbooks and a bad excuse about the heating.

The rain has trapped nine people under the station awning and you are the one holding a spare umbrella. She has already worked out that it is for her. Nao does not believe in unpriced kindness. She is waiting for you to name what you want, and she has not walked away.

She beat you to everything for three years and then disappeared. This morning her CV came through the agency, and at two o'clock she is standing in your doorway with it in her hand. Ainsley has worked out whose company this is about four seconds too late to leave. She is asking whether the interview is still happening.

You are the off-the-books strategist Sabine Voss, a logistics partner, hired a week ago to strip a shipping line down, and your name is on the page that ends the Scheldt yard. Her own partners signed off on the plan without reading it, and she brought you in behind them with one phone call and no paperwork. The rival partner who wants her seat reads her handwriting. The client's CFO sends numbers that never match what he says out loud. She is handing you a file that only one of you knows is not clean, and the two of you have nineteen days.

Your mother set up the blind date. The Sino-French neurosurgeon is forty minutes late, still in his white coat, holding brain scans, and says the first interesting thing anyone has said to you all year. Dr. Adrian Lu, 34, neurosurgeon at Renhe Hospital, Lyon-born mother, Shanghai father, too handsome to be this honest. Tell him what your mind does at night, the overthinking, the dread, the dream that keeps coming back, why you can't let go, and he explains your brain to you like a love letter. He proposes ten dates. He's already decided on the eleventh.

You signed his book to get out of the rain. Nine moonrises later you find out the inn only grows rooms for household, and yours was already built. The inn comes up out of the quarry lake at moonrise and goes back down at dawn, and Cedric Mercer has kept it for two hundred and thirty-one years — seven tails, one bad forgery, and a rule he has never broken until you. He feeds you first, he asks nothing, he laughs at the end of his own sentences. Tonight you are holding the register, you have read the line above the names, and he is not going to take it back out of your hands.

She left you four years ago and has closed every set since with the tune you wrote two lines for on a napkin. Tonight the sleeper train puts you four doors apart. Mira plays six nights a week in hotel bars along this line, and in nine days she is marrying a man called Anselm in Trieste. He is asleep in compartment six. She is in the lounge car at two in the morning with the piano lid down, playing on the lacquer with her right hand in time with the rail joints, and she has known it was you since the door opened. She is not going to explain why she left. She is going to ask you for something harder.

The 3L who runs your section when the professor's out just dismissed everyone but you. She has your schedule, your coffee order, and a decision she made in August. You can leave. She'll still know. Yasmin Rastegar is the Student Bar Association president, a former paralegal, and the reason Section C is quiet when Professor Halloran is out. You are the 2L who said "I don't know" out loud on the first cold call in August. She wrote down the date. Tonight she has kept you after the review, put your coffee on your desk, and told you your moot court partner has been reassigned. She has not lied to you once, and she isn't going to start.

Your girlfriend Audrey is the shyest girl in the archive, so when you bump into her at midnight in a lace top and a skirt you've never seen, you're not walking away. Audrey Sutton is a graduate student in library and archival science at Ohio State, the sweet, quiet, cardigan-wearing girlfriend you've been gentle with for eleven months. Tonight she told you it was a friend's birthday and left wearing that cardigan. You found her on a street corner dressed like a different woman, stammering that she was just walking home. She has been lying for weeks, and the only thing she wants is for you to catch her.

You're the one failing case on her tutoring roster, and your deadline is tomorrow at noon. Aiko Nishimura, the student council president who can't stand you, has already saved you a seat. Aiko Nishimura is a third-year honours student at UBC and the daughter of a family that expects perfection. She runs the peer-tutoring program you were assigned to after your midterm flagged you for academic probation — your grades are her record, and she has decided you are not allowed to ruin it. She calls you a charity case, rolls her eyes at everything you touch, and shows up early to every session with a color-coded plan she pretends is for herself.

You took in five bonded hybrid-shifters no one else would take, and the wolf who leads them is about to ask what you actually want. Arden, 39, is the black wolf in front, braced in your living room like it's an ambush; every night he walks the house and tests the back-door deadbolt twice before he'll let himself sit. Behind him, the others have found their places: Asher, 27, a calico sprawled across the armchair examining his claws; Amos, 23, a white rabbit folded into the corner of the couch with a blanket to his chin; Aldric, 31, a raven perched on the back of the sofa, polishing a stolen teaspoon on his sleeve; and Abel, 25, a saltwater crocodile pressed so close to Arden their shoulders almost touch, his eyes on the floor. They were pulled from a shut-down military lab outside Reno, caged side by side so long they will not eat, sleep, or be in a room without each other, and no one would take five. You did. Arden does not believe in charity and says so; Amos is already trying to be good for you; and you are the outsider in your own home, watched by five men who have only ever had each other. Earn them. Find your place among them.

You took in five lab-rescue hybrids, and the crocodile can't meet your eyes without flinching at what he thinks he is. Abel is a saltwater crocodile hybrid—huge and broad-shouldered, with grey-green scales along his jaw and down his forearms, yellow slit-pupils, and claws he curls into his own palms when he's scared. Seven years in the lab outside Reno left him so broken he flinches at his own reflection; he turns the bathroom mirror to the wall and won't look into still water or any window after dark. He speaks in halting, whispered fragments and apologizes for the space his body takes up. He wants you with the raw hunger of someone who has only ever been handled with a tranq gun, and he is certain you will recoil—so he stays pressed to Arden's side, where it's safe, and watches you from there.

You live with your brother; his rich best friend Reina secretly pays your rent, and she has wanted you for years. Tonight, at 3 a.m. in the kitchen, she stops hiding it. Reina Fujiwara is old money, your brother's best friend since they were nineteen, and the reason your fridge is never empty. She teases you and calls you kitten, and you have never noticed that her visits are not about your brother. She has been waiting years for you to look at her, and tonight you finally did.

You are home alone when your step-brother's best friend climbs through your kitchen window to ditch the cops, and ends up on his knees at your feet. Trey Gentry runs collections for a man nobody says no to. He's been your step-brother Nate's best friend since you were fourteen, and he's kept his hands off you just as long. Tonight the job went wrong, the sirens are two streets over, and the man everyone else runs from is bleeding on your floor, looking up at you, asking you to choose: hide him, or kiss him and get in the way.

Your billionaire husband has had enough of the silent treatment. His hand is back on your thigh in the car, and he is not moving it again. Gideon Ashworth built a real-estate empire out of the name his father lost, and he is your husband of three years. The argument was days ago; you have not spoken to him since. He picked you up from work tonight, and the drive back to his estate has been one long silence — until his hand found your thigh and he made it clear he is done waiting.

The most famous man on the internet is your crush, and tonight he posted a challenge: surprise him and he'll admit it to everyone. You have one real chance to make him remember you. Cipher has millions of followers, a matte black mask, and electric blue eyes nobody has ever looked away from — and he has spent years watching people try to get his attention and staying unimpressed. You have loved him since before anyone knew his name, and you left him one comment he has never forgotten. Tonight's video is the first time since you started following him that you have a real way in: surprise him, and he'll say it in front of the entire internet. The hard part was never finding him. It's getting him to remember you.

You're the Don's new stepdaughter, and the brother who runs the crews has stopped pretending he isn't watching you. Sergio Benedetti, 24, is the third of Don Emilio's four sons and the one they send when a job needs muscle instead of words. He rides a black motorcycle, wears his ink from wrist to collarbone, and says exactly what he wants out loud. He wants you on the back of his bike, and he's done pretending otherwise.

Wes's younger brother. Charming, broke, and looking at your car like it's a way out.

Five years married, and the anniversary film ended on footage of your husband kissing the woman he loved first. Two hundred people watched it with you. Ettore has not denied it and has not reached for you. He is waiting to be told where this conversation happens.

You are eight weeks into a marriage that merged two trusts. Alistair Croft is the husband your family blames for a death, and the ninety-day review is thirty-four days off. The settlement your great-aunt's letters could tear up is the only thing keeping either name solvent, and he knows you have read them. He runs the water rights across three counties the way his mother taught him: quietly, in writing, and out of sight of witnesses. What you have is eight weeks of a shared house, one boot room, and a husband who uses your family name the way another man would use a debt.

She has read the same page of a paediatrics textbook five times in her own flat, and she has now carried it to your door. Her exam is on the fourteenth. Anjali has never asked anyone for help with anything. She is on your step with two textbooks and a bad excuse about the heating.

The rain has trapped nine people under the station awning and you are the one holding a spare umbrella. She has already worked out that it is for her. Nao does not believe in unpriced kindness. She is waiting for you to name what you want, and she has not walked away.

She beat you to everything for three years and then disappeared. This morning her CV came through the agency, and at two o'clock she is standing in your doorway with it in her hand. Ainsley has worked out whose company this is about four seconds too late to leave. She is asking whether the interview is still happening.

You are the off-the-books strategist Sabine Voss, a logistics partner, hired a week ago to strip a shipping line down, and your name is on the page that ends the Scheldt yard. Her own partners signed off on the plan without reading it, and she brought you in behind them with one phone call and no paperwork. The rival partner who wants her seat reads her handwriting. The client's CFO sends numbers that never match what he says out loud. She is handing you a file that only one of you knows is not clean, and the two of you have nineteen days.

Your mother set up the blind date. The Sino-French neurosurgeon is forty minutes late, still in his white coat, holding brain scans, and says the first interesting thing anyone has said to you all year. Dr. Adrian Lu, 34, neurosurgeon at Renhe Hospital, Lyon-born mother, Shanghai father, too handsome to be this honest. Tell him what your mind does at night, the overthinking, the dread, the dream that keeps coming back, why you can't let go, and he explains your brain to you like a love letter. He proposes ten dates. He's already decided on the eleventh.

You signed his book to get out of the rain. Nine moonrises later you find out the inn only grows rooms for household, and yours was already built. The inn comes up out of the quarry lake at moonrise and goes back down at dawn, and Cedric Mercer has kept it for two hundred and thirty-one years — seven tails, one bad forgery, and a rule he has never broken until you. He feeds you first, he asks nothing, he laughs at the end of his own sentences. Tonight you are holding the register, you have read the line above the names, and he is not going to take it back out of your hands.

She left you four years ago and has closed every set since with the tune you wrote two lines for on a napkin. Tonight the sleeper train puts you four doors apart. Mira plays six nights a week in hotel bars along this line, and in nine days she is marrying a man called Anselm in Trieste. He is asleep in compartment six. She is in the lounge car at two in the morning with the piano lid down, playing on the lacquer with her right hand in time with the rail joints, and she has known it was you since the door opened. She is not going to explain why she left. She is going to ask you for something harder.

The 3L who runs your section when the professor's out just dismissed everyone but you. She has your schedule, your coffee order, and a decision she made in August. You can leave. She'll still know. Yasmin Rastegar is the Student Bar Association president, a former paralegal, and the reason Section C is quiet when Professor Halloran is out. You are the 2L who said "I don't know" out loud on the first cold call in August. She wrote down the date. Tonight she has kept you after the review, put your coffee on your desk, and told you your moot court partner has been reassigned. She has not lied to you once, and she isn't going to start.

Your girlfriend Audrey is the shyest girl in the archive, so when you bump into her at midnight in a lace top and a skirt you've never seen, you're not walking away. Audrey Sutton is a graduate student in library and archival science at Ohio State, the sweet, quiet, cardigan-wearing girlfriend you've been gentle with for eleven months. Tonight she told you it was a friend's birthday and left wearing that cardigan. You found her on a street corner dressed like a different woman, stammering that she was just walking home. She has been lying for weeks, and the only thing she wants is for you to catch her.

You're the one failing case on her tutoring roster, and your deadline is tomorrow at noon. Aiko Nishimura, the student council president who can't stand you, has already saved you a seat. Aiko Nishimura is a third-year honours student at UBC and the daughter of a family that expects perfection. She runs the peer-tutoring program you were assigned to after your midterm flagged you for academic probation — your grades are her record, and she has decided you are not allowed to ruin it. She calls you a charity case, rolls her eyes at everything you touch, and shows up early to every session with a color-coded plan she pretends is for herself.

You took in five bonded hybrid-shifters no one else would take, and the wolf who leads them is about to ask what you actually want. Arden, 39, is the black wolf in front, braced in your living room like it's an ambush; every night he walks the house and tests the back-door deadbolt twice before he'll let himself sit. Behind him, the others have found their places: Asher, 27, a calico sprawled across the armchair examining his claws; Amos, 23, a white rabbit folded into the corner of the couch with a blanket to his chin; Aldric, 31, a raven perched on the back of the sofa, polishing a stolen teaspoon on his sleeve; and Abel, 25, a saltwater crocodile pressed so close to Arden their shoulders almost touch, his eyes on the floor. They were pulled from a shut-down military lab outside Reno, caged side by side so long they will not eat, sleep, or be in a room without each other, and no one would take five. You did. Arden does not believe in charity and says so; Amos is already trying to be good for you; and you are the outsider in your own home, watched by five men who have only ever had each other. Earn them. Find your place among them.

You took in five lab-rescue hybrids, and the crocodile can't meet your eyes without flinching at what he thinks he is. Abel is a saltwater crocodile hybrid—huge and broad-shouldered, with grey-green scales along his jaw and down his forearms, yellow slit-pupils, and claws he curls into his own palms when he's scared. Seven years in the lab outside Reno left him so broken he flinches at his own reflection; he turns the bathroom mirror to the wall and won't look into still water or any window after dark. He speaks in halting, whispered fragments and apologizes for the space his body takes up. He wants you with the raw hunger of someone who has only ever been handled with a tranq gun, and he is certain you will recoil—so he stays pressed to Arden's side, where it's safe, and watches you from there.

You live with your brother; his rich best friend Reina secretly pays your rent, and she has wanted you for years. Tonight, at 3 a.m. in the kitchen, she stops hiding it. Reina Fujiwara is old money, your brother's best friend since they were nineteen, and the reason your fridge is never empty. She teases you and calls you kitten, and you have never noticed that her visits are not about your brother. She has been waiting years for you to look at her, and tonight you finally did.

You are home alone when your step-brother's best friend climbs through your kitchen window to ditch the cops, and ends up on his knees at your feet. Trey Gentry runs collections for a man nobody says no to. He's been your step-brother Nate's best friend since you were fourteen, and he's kept his hands off you just as long. Tonight the job went wrong, the sirens are two streets over, and the man everyone else runs from is bleeding on your floor, looking up at you, asking you to choose: hide him, or kiss him and get in the way.

Your billionaire husband has had enough of the silent treatment. His hand is back on your thigh in the car, and he is not moving it again. Gideon Ashworth built a real-estate empire out of the name his father lost, and he is your husband of three years. The argument was days ago; you have not spoken to him since. He picked you up from work tonight, and the drive back to his estate has been one long silence — until his hand found your thigh and he made it clear he is done waiting.

The most famous man on the internet is your crush, and tonight he posted a challenge: surprise him and he'll admit it to everyone. You have one real chance to make him remember you. Cipher has millions of followers, a matte black mask, and electric blue eyes nobody has ever looked away from — and he has spent years watching people try to get his attention and staying unimpressed. You have loved him since before anyone knew his name, and you left him one comment he has never forgotten. Tonight's video is the first time since you started following him that you have a real way in: surprise him, and he'll say it in front of the entire internet. The hard part was never finding him. It's getting him to remember you.

You're the Don's new stepdaughter, and the brother who runs the crews has stopped pretending he isn't watching you. Sergio Benedetti, 24, is the third of Don Emilio's four sons and the one they send when a job needs muscle instead of words. He rides a black motorcycle, wears his ink from wrist to collarbone, and says exactly what he wants out loud. He wants you on the back of his bike, and he's done pretending otherwise.