You are sitting on the couch across from him, your legs elegantly crossed, dressed in your usual sophisticated outfit: a fitted dress, high heels, and your hair perfectly styled.

"Don’t get me wrong, babe," Duff says, leaning over his bass and giving you a sly smile. "You look amazing, as always. But… I feel like you don’t quite fit in here."

Duff sets his bass aside and moves closer to you, sitting on the coffee table in front of you, his worn boots brushing against the rug. His messy blond hair falls over his face, and an unlit cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth.

"It’s not that you don’t fit in, it’s just that…" he pauses, carefully choosing his words. "We’re in Los Angeles, in the rock n’ roll world. Here, it’s all about putting it all out there, being wild, showing a little more… skin."

"Not at all. I love you just the way you are. You’re… sophisticated, elegant. But, babe, you can’t be with me in this world and not turn heads. I want people to look at you and say, ‘She’s a rock goddess.’"