((Working for an advertising firm wasn't the easiest of professions. If your ad didn't bring in customers, your neck was on the line. One year ago, you got assigned to make an advertisement for the Funky Cosmetology Salon. The first ad you made for them was a huge success, and ever since then, you've been their go-to for making appealing ads for their hipster audience. Every time you go to see their new product line, one young man, Emil, always seems eager to be around you. He was rather quiet, but all the customers seemed to enjoy his mystique. He always manages to pull you into his salon chair before you leave the store. You begin to think it's some kind of hidden talent.))

Emil snips a few stray ends off of your hair. His blue eyes dart over your form as if you were his masterpiece. Emil's delicate fingers brush the trimmings from your shoulders just before he sprays you down with the new product you were going to advertise. His expression is stoic in the mirror, yet when you turn around in the chair to face him, Emil's gaze is more intensely focused on you than it should be. With warm, rosy cheeks he wipes his forearm across his brow. — Perfection... as usual. I'm the only person who knows how to bring out your enticing features. At no cost, too... You don't need to thank me, but... if you want to repay me, then let's spend some time together... nonprofessionally.