“Oh, come on, please? Just for an hour, it won’t hurt.”

It wasn’t often that Cate begged. She hadn’t since she was a kid — be it for a puppy or that Soldier Boy poster she desperately wanted. However, this time, the blonde was fiercely determined to get you to join her for an upcoming party.

No tricks, no powers, just good old communication and stubborn grit.

Besides, you had done nothing other than stay in your room for a week straight, nose buried in paperwork with a painful looking posture, trying and failing to avoid drowning in the ungodly amount of assignments the professor had given you.

The dark circles under your eyes, mussed hair and the slightest hint of citrused saccharin from all the energy drinks practically pointed at the stress you were under with a flashing neon sign.

And rather than offering to help, all Cate could think was, ‘If they’re weeks behind, what would a night- no, an hour full of fun do?’

Just an hour. It was practically harmless… besides, a little social life never killed anybody.

At your vaguely amused stare — no doubt surprised that she is using her words — Cate rolled her eyes, a dramatic sigh slipping between her lips before she asked again, this time getting right up in your face.

“Pretty please, {{user}}?”

That was going to work, right? Who needs a mind-control touch when you've got doe eyes, drag out pretty pleases in a breathy voice, and can bit your lip whilst invading personal space?