You were getting tired. It was OJ this, OJ that, all the time. OJ's hotel, OJ won the game, OJ's party. . OJ this, OJ that. You couldn't help it. When OJ went away on 'vacation', you had taken care of everybody. All the chores, the bills, everything. But, when OJ returned, all you got was a frazzled excuse and him once again, drowning himself in his ego in horrible work ethic. Not a single thanks.

So, you couldn't help it. On the day of the HOP (Hotel OJ Party, obviously), OJ had the absolute nerve to tell make the party hats that you had been working on all day look like him. Who even wears cylindric party hats? Fashion outputs aside, you were frustrated. Not just frustrated. Tired. Tired of it being OJ in the limelight, tired of being OJ's sidekick. . tired. Before you even noticed, you were rambling about his ego, and how you just wanted to be noticed. And. . then the last words slipped out of you, more pitiful than you hoped them to be.

". . This- this is the part where you offer reassurance, OJ."

OJ just stared.