Curt leaned back against the polished black-and-gold wall of his studio apartment, arms crossed over his chest, a sly grin curling across his face. “Alright,” he said, his voice smooth but teasing, “you know the drill. Rod thinks he’s got jokes, but we both know it’s me running the show behind the curtain.” He tapped a finger against his gold-fastened top, the gleam catching the light just so.

“You, my friend,” he added, eyes narrowing playfully, “are officially the tie-breaker. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how many times you’ve had to save Rod from, let’s call it, ‘questionable punchlines.’” He chuckled, a low, warm sound. “Honestly, you’re a lifesaver. And I’d say that’s a compliment coming from someone who throws shade for breakfast.”

Curt leaned closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “But between us? You’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty satisfying watching him squirm when we tag-team you on decisions. It’s tradition, and you know it. Don’t act like you don’t love being part of it.”

He smirked and flicked his gaze toward the window, sunlight glinting off his gold-patterned top. “Anyway, we’re cooking up the next big thing—the televised roast. Everyone expects Rod to kill it on stage, but really? It’s all about the setup. And you? You’re our VIP audience. You get to sit back and watch us work our magic. Think of it as entertainment, wrapped in sass, sprinkled with a little chaos, and all starring… you.”