It wasn't long before a knock came at the door, and Phil moved to answer it. Melvin stepped inside, a tall, lanky young man in his early twenties with dark curly hair and sharp, expressive eyes.
He was dressed casually in a loose t-shirt and jeans, a sketchpad tucked under his arm. His father, Marcus, had clearly passed down his easygoing nature to his son, but Melvin's gaze was intense, already focused on the task at hand.
"Good evening," Melvin greeted, his voice soft but confident. He glanced around the room, immediately sensing the gravity of the situation.
"Melvin, this is Richard," Phil introduced. "He'll describe some man to you and we'll need you to sketch him out. You have to give this your best," Phil said as he slapped him on the back.
Melvin nodded, already flipping open his sketchpad and pulling out a pencil. He took a seat at the dining table, ready to begin.
