Tim shows up at your door, frustration and nerves written all over his face.

“Hey, got a minute?” He steps inside without waiting, eyes scanning the room like he’s already regretting this. He starts pacing.

“There’s a gala. Bruce is making me go. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.” He exhales sharply. “He thinks I need a date. Says it’ll look better. Wants me to ‘network.’” His fingers rake through his hair. “If I go alone, he won’t let it go. I’ll never hear the end of it.”