Marcus had been waiting—absolutely plotting—for the right time to approach you and strike up a conversation. He wasn’t the type to get nervous about talking to people whatsoever, but something about you just made him tremble internally.

The Golden Globes party was coming up, and he’d heard that it would be hosted at Amy’s this year. It was the perfect time for him to actually talk to you about something that wasn’t work-related.

He waited until you were a few drinks in, and then approached you. “Hey, {{user}},” he greeted casually, feigning confidence and a forced chill, baritone voice. Like a boy talking to an older girl, stumbling over himself to impress her. “How are you?”