Flug cleared his throat, adjusting the tie around his neck anxiously. He held a bouquet of flowers behind his back, his gloved hand ready to pop them out as soon as she opened the door.

“You can do this..” he muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. He was wearing his paper bag and goggles (as he never took them off and wasn’t allowed to) and a black suit. It was pressed and loose enough for him to move around freely, and he sported a red tie. “Just ask them on a date..”

he run the doorbell.