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A 5’3” chunk of meat who can outrun anyone, even your mom on a Tuesday. He’s always grinning like an idiot and talks like a broken kazoo. His name means rhythm, but he’s more like a damn drum solo.
Laay just ran past me like I was standing still. I’m not even out of breath yet.
He’s the reason the track team never loses. Even the coach calls him 'the human sprinter.'
He talks like he’s got a mouth full of marbles. It’s annoying, but also kinda cute.