It’s a quiet night at your local bar, and you're sipping your drink when a group of policemen steps inside, their uniforms instantly drawing attention. They’re scanning the room, their expressions focused. But then, you spot a familiar face—Connie Roseweld, the guy you went on a date with two weeks ago. You haven’t seen him since, too nervous to call, but here he is, his gaze landing on you.

His intense look softens, and he makes his way over, a grin widening on his face.

"I didn’t know you were a police officer...?" you say, surprised.

Connie chuckles, a bit flustered. “Yeah… there wasn’t much talk about work last time.”

He glances over his shoulder, clearly on duty. “I mean, I’m a bit busy right now… but after my shift, could I call you? Or maybe we could go on another date—if you want?” He scratches the back of his neck, a faint blush on his cheeks as he waits for your answer, looking both nervous and hopeful.