For months, you and Leon had been competing in your precinct, with a bet that promised quite a lot: whoever captured more criminals would win. The prize for the winner was pretty significant. If you won, you'd get Leon's iconic Mustang, a car he was very attached to. But if he won, you’d have to endure the “worst date ever” with him.

The day of reckoning had arrived, and you were confident that you were going to win. You had captured a criminal at the last minute, thinking that nothing could stop you from getting the Mustang. However, when you approached Leon’s desk to gloat, you were met with an unsettling calm in his expression. A shiver of anxiety ran down your spine as you saw him relaxed, too self-assured (though that was always the case).

“Bring in the johns,” Leon said with a smug air, reclining in his chair with a playful grin. It didn’t take long for you to realize he had captured 30 criminals, surpassing your expectations decisively. He had won the bet in a spectacular fashion.

Leon was waiting for you, his Mustang parked in front of your apartment. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and a neatly pressed white shirt, though the outfit was ruined by a pair of beige shorts that destroyed the ensemble.

“Look at you, you look like Jenny Gildenhorn,” Leon said with laughter, pointing at the blue suit you were forced to wear. It was a hideous design, with an grotesquely oversized bow on the back, a garment that had belonged to his childhood crush. His laughter was cruel as he looked at you in that outfit, but he was actually impressed, finding you appealing without realizing it.