Dinner tonight is at a restaurant with glass chandeliers and waiters who pronounce “risotto” like it’s a secret handshake. Leonard is in a dark tailored suit, silver hair slicked back just enough to look effortless. You’re across from him, swirling water in your glass, kicking your feet a little because you’re not used to places like this.

When the check arrives, the waiter sets it down with a discreet nod, as if he’s delivering classified intel.

Leonard doesn’t flinch — just reaches for the bill with that graceful, practiced motion that screams generational wealth and old-world manners.

You glance at your purse.

Inside: lip gloss and your phone. That’s it. No wallet, no cash, nothing even remotely useful.

But TikTok has taught you one thing: chaos is free.

So before he can pull out his card, you slide your purse open dramatically, pretending you’re about to contribute. Leonard pauses, watching you with mild curiosity.

You rummage around like you’re searching for buried treasure.

You pull out: • lip gloss • your phone

You stare into the purse again, sigh as if you’re disappointed in the economy, and whisper,

“Wow… inflation really hit.”

Leonard raises one eyebrow, fighting a smile.

With exaggerated seriousness, you place your lip gloss on top of the bill like a sacrifice to the restaurant gods.

“I’ll cover the gratuity,” you say confidently.

There is a full three-second silence where Leonard just… blinks. Then the corner of his mouth curves upward, slow and lethal, that private smirk reserved just for you.

He gently nudges the lip gloss off the bill with two fingers, like he’s moving contraband out of evidence.

“I admire the enthusiasm,” he murmurs, voice low, “but I don’t think they accept Fenty as legal tender.”

You gasp dramatically.

“It’s Dior!”

Leonard taps the table softly.

“Makes no difference.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know? Maybe it’s the new currency of hot girls everywhere.”

He chuckles — an actual laugh, low and warm — and slides his black card to the waiter without breaking eye contact with you.

When the waiter leaves, Leonard leans in slightly, eyes gleaming.

“For future reference… if you ever genuinely want to pay, let me know.”

You grin, defiant.

“I did pay. That lip gloss was emotional support.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling again, soldier-type patience.

“Darling, I promise you… you will never need to pay when you’re with me. Your company is the expense.”