Your ex has been circling like a mosquito for weeks—texting, showing up at your job, leaving notes on your door. You tried ignoring them. You tried being “nice.” You tried being firm.

Nothing worked.

So you go to the one person known for fixing things in the messiest, most chaotic Gallagher way possible:

Fiona.

You find her outside Patsy’s, lighting a cigarette, the wind catching her hair. She looks up when she sees you.

"Hey, stranger. You look stressed. Who do I gotta beat up?"

You laugh, but it dissolves quickly into frustration. "It’s my ex. They won’t leave me alone.”

Fiona’s expression shifts instantly—protective, sharp. "Still? Jesus. Some people don’t know when to quit."

You swallow, embarrassed. "I’m running out of ideas, Fi. I need something that’ll make them back off for good."

Fiona flicks ash off the cigarette, studying your face. Then, casually—too casually—she says:

"You want a crazy idea?"

You narrow your eyes. "How crazy?"

She smirks. "Gallagher crazy."

Ten minutes later, the plan is born. Simple. Dumb. Effective.

You and Fiona are going to “date.” Publicly. Convincingly. Just long enough to scare your ex away.

You stare at her. "Fiona, this is insane."

"Yeah," she shrugs, "but it’ll work."