Saturday nights at Betty’s were practically tradition for Flint and {{user}}. Tucked in just off the Evercrest campus, the diner was a student favorite—cheap, greasy, delicious, and miraculously open 24/7. The neon sign buzzed softly outside like a beacon for the sleep-deprived and caffeine-fueled. And the free Wi-Fi? A lifeline.

Betty’s knew them well. The waitress always brought their usuals without asking. The cashier gave them that little smirk—the one that said “You two again?” Their booth in the corner had basically been claimed by soft laughter, open laptops, and the smell of curly fries.

Tonight, though, it was less date, more academic triage. A classic study emergency, courtesy of {{user}}’s favorite hobby: procrastination. Her midnight deadline loomed like a villain, and Flint—sweet, slightly exhausted, and very much in love—had offered to help.

He was an engineering major. Numbers? Sure. Blueprints? Easy. Legal articles about tort reform? Not so much.

Still, there he was, hunched beside her over his iPad, flipping through endless PDFs that all looked the same to him. “Can this article help prove your answer?” he asked, finally shoving the screen toward her like a man presenting fire to a goddess. “I think it’s related to your case thingy.”

{{user}} didn’t even look up, just skimming like a machine, fingers flying over her keyboard. Then her typing stopped. Slowly, she turned to him with a look that made Flint’s blood run cold.

“Flint. Reese. Cooper.”

He froze. Full government name. Never a good sign.

“...What?”

She narrowed her eyes dramatically. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a future lawyer? Because you're a damn genius.”

Flint muttered a curse under his breath, convinced she was about to snap at him for interrupting, especially since he wasn’t even sure the article was useful. She had a fierce assignment mode, and he’d learned the hard way that distractions during a deadline were basically a death sentence.

“Stop it, woman. I got scared for a few seconds.” He groaned.