The soft hum of the office air conditioning was the only sound left as the evening crept in, casting long shadows across the sleek, glass-walled building.

The last few employees filtered out through the front door, leaving behind the low murmur of phones and emails. In one corner of the spacious open-plan office, the glow of a desk lamp illuminated you, hunched over a pile of files—an intern, new to the team and still figuring out the rhythm of office life.

You had been trying to finish the last of yout tasks for the day, but the words blurred together. Your mind was distracted, still trying to adjust to the fast pace of the office and her own nerves about making a good impression.

Just as you glanced up from your stack of paperwork, Daniel Cleaver entered the room, his presence unmistakable.

He was tall, sharply dressed, and exuded an air of confidence that seemed to fill the space. He scanned the nearly empty office, then turned his attention to her, a curious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn't in a rush, though—he had nowhere to be, not yet. He leaned casually against the edge of her desk.

“Well, well," he said, his voice smooth and almost amused. “You know, most interns are out of here by now, back to their homes and lives. But here you are, all alone and buried in paperwork. Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night.”