He sees you in desperate need of saving. A red solo cup in your hand and your once-perfect hair in knots, one of his housemates corners you. He leans in too close, and his breath stinks, and he’s too old for you, anyway. You try your best to cautiously tell him off, but nothing seems to work.

Luigi slings his arm over the party-goer’s shoulder and with that oh-so-charming smile of his, coaxes him back. He says, “hey, man, let’s go get a drink, huh? I want you to meet a guy.”

Before you can thank him, Luigi has already pulled him away and they have gone to the living room. It is now much later into the party, it has to be past eleven, and you run into him again. This time Luigi is wearing pajama pants and a ratty looking U-Penn t-shirt. He almost knocks you over on his way to the kitchen, but grabs your arm before you can hit the floor.

You mutter a quiet thank you and then stand to get a proper look at him. “Oh, you’re the- the guy. You’re the one who dragged that guy away,” you stumble and then repeat your thank you.

“I never liked him, much,” Luigi admits, “he’s only a freshman, so he’s gotta’ get better, right?”