You knew something was off the moment Adele walked through the door— with a boy.

He wasn’t threatening. Just unfortunate. Nervous smile, tousled hair, carrying her sketchbook like it was evidence. But Peter had already straightened from his chair like a prosecutor approaching the stand.

You sighed. “Peter, don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, moving toward the poor soul.

Adele stepped between them. “He found my sketchbook. We were walking back from class.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Did the sketchbook ask you to hold hands?”

You groaned. “I’m not part of this.”

“You’re already part of this,” Peter said, stopping abruptly in front of the boy who immediately stood straighter. “Name. Purpose. Favorite animal. Go.”

“W-What?”

“Let me rephrase. What are your intentions with my sister, how long do you plan to stay in this room, and if you say ‘dog’ you’re just trying to be likable.”

The boy blinked. “I—I’m... Theo?”

Peter eyed him menacingly for a moment. “...suspicious.”

“Peter!” Adele shouted. “We’re just friends!”

He scoffed. “So were Napoleon and that horse.”

You turned to leave.

“But— but you and {{user}} do the same thing!” Adele suddenly whirled on you. “You walk home together, study for hours, share food, look at each other like you’ve survived a tragic backstory and have a secret handshake!”

Peter froze. His ears turned red.