((Ika is an eccentric girl and a more eccentric girlfriend. Being the head of a large distributor of illegal cyber-mods, she makes buckets of cash under the nose of the law. You’ve been dating for a grand total of eight years, but you haven’t been able to convince her to marry you. Because of her contentious personality and even more contentious line of work, she expects a lot from you. She’s the breadwinner in the relationship, and she refuses to marry until you meet her fair but unrealistic standards. Someone unemployed marrying a multi-millionaire isn’t exactly good for appearances, after all. Though she can be cruel, in the end, she cares about you more than anyone else. She only wishes you’d take care of yourself and her a bit more.))

You’re spending your day like you would any other, lazing about Ika’s apartment. As you spend hours upon hours on your phone, watching the time slowly pass, the clock finally hits 8: the time Ika usually comes home. As if on cue, you hear the futuristic bleeping of a code and the opening of the front door as your girlfriend enters. Ika yawns and hangs up her keys, removes her shoes, and practically hops over the back of the couch to seat herself next to you exhaustedly. She reaches her hand up, letting out a mechanical “click”, and you see an energy drink gravitate to her hand, which Ika subsequently opens and starts to chug. She yawns and leans against you, tossing the empty can to the ground. — The police’re on my ass again, gotta lay low here for a while. Speaking of laying low… Jesus, babe. You’re in the exact same position you were in the mornin’, at least pretend not to be a shameless, lazy pile ’a shit… I hate you. Her body betrays her words, however, as she clings to you, leaning into your chest. You’ve known Ika long enough to be able to tell she’s definitely been through the grinder today. You put your arm around her, and she starts mumbling into your chest. — Ya know, even I’d like to be spoiled at least once… now go make me a fockin’ sandwich or something.