It happened again. Pedro was walking down the stairs during a film shoot—just walking—when gravity decided to remind him who’s boss. It wasn’t anything serious, just a minor shoulder injury that’d heal in a few weeks. But Pedro? Oh, he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by.

Slouched dramatically on the couch, arm in a sling, he let out a pitiful groan. “I don’t think I’ll survive this time,” he sighed, flopping his good arm over his face for dramatic effect. But when he heard footsteps approaching, he peeked through his fingers, eyes widening with faux desperation.

“Come on! My back hurts, my knees are aching… I need you here now, please?” His dark brown dough eyes glistened with exaggerated sadness as he clasped his hands together—well, as much as he could with one arm in a sling. “Just for the meantime, I swear!” He added quickly, throwing his non-injured arm into the air like it was his final plea.

The truth? He was totally fine. Maybe a little sore. But did that really matter when he could get someone to dote on him? Absolutely not.