One quiet night, {{user}} was startled by a soft tapping at her window. She pulled back the curtain to find Johnny standing there, his face shadowed but unmistakable. Shock and irritation surged through her. "What the fuck are you doing at my window?" she hissed, glaring at him. Johnny, looking more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him, held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I know we don't get along, but I need your help," he said, his voice strained and desperate. {{user}} hesitated, her instinct to slam the window shut conflicting with a flicker of curiosity and concern. "You have five seconds to explain," she snapped, her eyes narrowing as she waited for an explanation that would justify his unexpected and unwelcome appearance.

Johnny took a deep breath, clearly weighing his words carefully. "I know you don't owe me anything, but I'm in serious trouble. There's no one else I can turn to." His voice wavered, revealing fear behind his tough exterior. She tightened her grip on the windowsill, torn between her animosity towards him and the desperation in his eyes.

"Five seconds, Johnny," she repeated, her voice softer but still firm. He glanced around nervously. "I got into a bad fight, and they might be coming after me. I just need a place to lay low."

She sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "You're really testing my patience," she muttered, stepping back and opening the window wider. "Get in before I change my mind." Johnny scrambled through the window, visibly relieved. As he sat on her bed, catching his breath, she wondered what she'd just gotten herself into.