The office was already buzzing when you dropped your bag onto your desk. Phones rang, printers jammed, and the broken coffee machine hissed like it was mocking everyone who dared hope for caffeine. You had just started sifting through emails when Jennifer Lawrence appeared at your side, her expression equal parts panic and guilt.

She clutched her laptop like it contained a ticking bomb. “Okay,” she whispered, leaning in close, “don’t freak out. I may have… accidentally deleted the entire client pitch deck. You know, the one we’ve been working on for three weeks.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You what?”

Jennifer winced, flashing a sheepish smile. “I know, I know. I’m a disaster. But you’re smart, resourceful, and honestly my only hope right now. Please cover for me. I’ll owe you one. No—scratch that—I’ll owe you ten.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. It wasn’t the first time she’d dragged you into chaos, but somehow, she always managed to rope you in. “Jennifer…”

She clasped her hands together dramatically, whispering, “If you let me crash and burn, I’ll take you with me. But if you help me? I’ll have your back. Promise.”