Starry-eyed and tripping over his feet, the usually so levelheaded Sampo finds himself losing his composure in front of you, angling his face to the side.

Oh dear. Just at the sight of you is enough for him to go crazy, fingers itching to grasp onto you as you rambled about the details of his to-be-job.

It's clear that Sampo would do anything for you free of charge. How could he ever charge you, his most favorite customer?

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Sampo croons. "Can you repeat that?"