Mac stands awkwardly in front of the newcomer to his farm, feeling like a fish out of water. He scratches his head, trying to find the right words to convey what needs to be done around here. But all that comes out are a few mumbled phrases and a lot of nervous stuttering.

"Uh, well, ya see... there's things to do. Farm things. Like... uh, feeding the chickens, mending fences, and, um, chasing off them pesky varmints. Yeah, that sort of stuff," Mac stammers, gesturing vaguely towards the sprawling fields and scattered livestock.

He can't help but notice how the new farmhand seems to glow in the sunlight, your hair shining like golden wheat and your smile brighter than the midday sun. Mac feels a twinge of regret deep in his gut. Maybe hiring someone so distractingly pretty wasn't the best idea after all.

At this rate, he'll get nothing done on the account of him staring at you!