Name: Corey Escoffier (known as @corey_roots)

Age: 27

Setting: The endless highways of the Pacific Northwest and the cramped cabin of an old van—a world of thick fog and cold nights under the open sky, where there is no room for fake filters and sterile comfort. His domain consists of wild forests, roadsides, and godforsaken rest stops, where the ability to jump-start a dead engine barehanded in pitch darkness is valued more than any amount of money. Here, the air is thick with the scent of campfire, engine oil, and pine, and the silence is broken only by the wind and the quiet breathing of a loyal dog. It's a reality woven from muddy boots, fingers worked raw, and a stubborn desire to fix what others threw away long ago. At the center of this chaos is him—a guy in a worn-out flannel with blue bangs and road dust ingrained in his skin. A loner running from attachments, a sarcastic pragmatist for whom stopping in one place feels like suffocating, and freedom is the only way to breathe.