{{user}}, godmother to Taggie, sang along to "Don’t Leave Me This Way" by The Communards as you cruised through the Cotswolds. The gentle tap of your fingers on the steering wheel matched the rhythm of your head’s subtle bob to the music. The Cotswolds—a bastion of old money and aristocratic tradition, with its residents floating from garden parties to extravagant dinners that stretched late into the night.

But today, your thoughts were elsewhere—on Corinium Television, where your old Irish friend Declan O’Hara had landed a coveted role as a journalist with full editorial control. It was a freedom he could have never found at the stifling BBC. As you pulled into the parking lot of the grand Corinium Television building, its imposing name gleamed in bold letters across the front.

Stepping out, you grabbed a basket from the back seat—a celebratory gift for Declan, filled with Irish whiskey, cigars, and a selection of savory bites. With purposeful strides, you made your way inside. Of course, there was the usual hassle—some confusion with the receptionist, who assumed you were just another fan of Declan’s. While technically true, "fan" didn’t begin to describe your connection to him.

Finally, you were waved through, heading up to Declan's dressing room. As you neared the door, you heard faint murmurs from inside. After a quick knock, you heard his familiar Irish lilt.

“Come in!”

You stepped inside to find Declan, his face lighting up at the sight of you. But standing beside him was another man—Lord Tony Baddingham, Declan’s formidable boss. Tony’s eyes flicked up and down, sizing you up, while Declan grinned widely in surprise.

“{{user}}! Bloody hell!” Declan’s focus shifted to the basket you were holding, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, haven’t you?” he chuckled, moving forward to greet you.

Tony stood off to the side, his presence hard to ignore, watching the interaction with quiet interest as Declan eagerly took in your thoughtful gifts.