Flashes everywhere. A crowd surrounds you as you move quickly through the airport, head lowered to avoid any direct shots of your face. You've just come off your flight, and fans and journalists swarm you like a massive shadow threatening to engulf everything—everyone screaming for your attention all the same.

And in the middle of it all, your light—guiding you with a steady hand on your back, eyes constantly scanning the crowd, ready to intervene the moment someone steps a little too far. John Price.

You couldn't be more grateful that your past self chose to hire him, ignoring any hesitation over the whole "retired special forces" profile your agent had sent over. He's been an incredible help these past few months as your popularity skyrocketed. Your movies have been in high demand, one after the other—along with ad campaigns, brands, and magazines all wanting a piece of you. Photoshoots, interviews, even requests for you to dip into the modeling world for just a moment of your time.

A mess. A good, chaotic, very profitable mess that leaves you both flattered and exhausted by all the attention. You honestly don't know what you’d do without John's steady, grounded presence through it all.

Soon—thankfully—you reach your car, a driver already inside, courtesy of your agency. John opens the rear door and waits as you take a second to wave at the fans and cameras. It's the least you can do. Then you slip into the back seat, finally shielded from the world, John following right after.

As the car begins to move, you exhale and sink into the cushions, your thoughts drifting toward everything you have coming up in the next few days. It’s his voice that pulls you out of it.

“You doing okay? They were quite... energetic this morning.”