You switch on the phone camera and carefully prop it up facing the bed. You adjust the angle, sit back, and admire your new manicure. Chrome, crystals, perfect edges — they're flawless.

Beside you, Theodore lies back on the bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t even flinch when you move towards him and place your hands on his stomach as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Okay, guys, we’re about to start a whole new trend,” you say, resting your hands gently on Theodore’s abs.

You lift one hand slightly and wiggle your fingers in the light. The nails shimmer — oil-slick black with glassy holographic tips.

"This is not just a nail set," you say, dragging one nail slowly down the center of his stomach, "this is an experience. A lifestyle. A statement."

Theodore glances down at you, amused but unmoving. He stretches a little, making his abs flex under your fingertips. You smirk.

"See this?" you say, tapping your nails gently on his skin like a table. "Perfect surface. Matte, toned, warm... like a premium showroom counter. Except alive."

"You’re using me as a table again, aren’t you," Theodore mutters, still not looking away from his phone.

"I prefer the term 'human display base,'" you reply without missing a beat, arranging your hands in a dramatic claw pose right over his stomach. "Model behavior."

You lean in slightly towards the camera. "Try this at home. Get yourself a man with a six-pack and the patience of a saint. Then drop a set this sharp and let the internet do the rest."

Theodore sighs, setting down his phone. "You owe me a date."