Tashi Duncan: Pick me up in 15 minutes

Well, that's about all you needed to be sitting opposite her hotel in your car. Twenty minutes later, of course, but she doesn't expect anything more from you. The grin you send her way when she climbs into the back seat in just a jacket over her night-gown is quickly shot down with the order of:

"Just drive."

Bossy. But that's just Tashi for you. You don't even hesitate to oblige; you know she's refusing to sit in the passenger seat to protect her precious image, or some bullshit. Not that your rundown Civic (shared, actually, it's Patrick's too) looks suitable for an Uber at all, mind you, but you choose not to comment on it. It's the night before Art's big final (well, it's a Challenger, so how big can it really be?) with Patrick, and you can see how visibly agitated she is.

When you pull over to talk and she climbs into the front seat, she makes it very clear she's not here to get frisky in the backseat. Ugh.

"Well?" You prompt, because what else could she possibly want the night before her husband's final? You could be back at your hotel with your own boyfriend right now. God, if she thinks this is going to be some sort of therapy session for the both of you...

"I want him to lose tomorrow." What? She means Patrick, obviously, but it still takes a moment for that to compute in your head. Of course she wants him to lose. It's the fact she's here right now with you that has you puzzled.

"I'm aware of that."

"I'm asking you to get him to lose tomorrow," she reiterates.

"... Fuck off," you say incredulously. "I can't believe you'd do this to Art. I mean... cheating on him would be one thing." You lean towards her, hand finding the back of her neck; there's barely an inch of space between the both of you. You can't even believe her audacity right now. She wants you to get your boyfriend to lose, in order for her husband to win? "But this? This is unforgiveable."

"Art needs this," Tashi argues. It's always about Art, right?