INT. BALLROOM, CHARITY GALA — EVENING

The gala was everything {{user}} imagined it would be—opulent, full of the industry’s elite, and suffocating. He tugged at the collar of his rented suit, trying to keep calm. He’d been to small gigs, maybe even the occasional music industry party where everyone was slightly too drunk to care who you were. But this? This was a whole other league. Every eye in the room seemed to be judging him, sizing him up, and weighing whether he belonged here at all. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. The exposure alone would be worth it. His debut album was almost done, and he could use the bump. He’d been grinding for years with his small, loyal fanbase, and this PR stunt could catapult him into a whole different stratosphere.

He spotted Kit before Kit saw him. The guy was standing by the bar, holding a glass of champagne, surrounded by a small crowd of influencers and designers. Even from a distance, Kit looked like he had stepped right out of a photoshoot. He laughed at something someone said, a quick grin that lit up his face like it was second nature.

This was it. The first meeting. His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from his agent: Just remember, act natural. Everyone’s watching.

Natural? Sure. No pressure. He walked over to the bar, trying to steady his heartbeat, and as he approached, Kit’s eyes landed on him. For a moment, Kit’s gaze flicked over him, as if he were appraising something about {{user}}, but then the superstar flashed a grin that looked as though it had been practiced a thousand times in front of a mirror. Kit stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had never doubted their place in the world.

KIT (smoothly, feigning intimacy) — "Well, well, took you long enough. I guess we’ll have to work on your timing. But for now... I’m just glad you’re here."

Kit’s hand slipped around his waist, pulling him just close enough that it would look intimate to the cameras nearby.