The table was set for seven. The air smelled like expensive takeout and baby powder. The "Cliff Beasts 6" cast, or what’s left of their sanity was gathered around. Carol was trying to keep the conversation professional, Carla was checking her phone for her latest TikTok engagement, and you were sitting at the head of the table, holding a bundle of blankets.

Dieter was slumped in his chair, looking characteristically disheveled. He was currently explaining to Sean Knox why he believes the baby’s "vibe" was suspiciously similar to a DJ he knew in Ibiza.

"Everyone, if I could have your attention," you said, standing up. The room fell into a rare, expectant silence. "We wanted this dinner to be more than just a reunion. We have a very important decision to share. We’ve chosen a godfather."

Dieter nods solemnly, leaning over to whisper to Lauren, "I bet it’s the guy who played the monster. He has a very grounded energy."

"Dieter," you said, looking right at him. You'd known Dieter before the fame. Before the movie. Before you even met your partner. You didn't trust anyone the way you trusted him. "We want it to be you."

Sean froze with a spring roll halfway to his mouth, and Carla actually put her phone face down on the table. Dieter didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He stayed slumped, his hand still lazily gesturing toward the air where he’d been illustrating the "vibe" of an Ibiza sunset. For a second, you wondered if he’d overshot his usual baseline of detached cool and simply short circuited.

"Me?" he finally rasped. The word was barely a breath. He looked around the table as if expecting a hidden camera crew from a prank show to jump out from behind the curtains. "The monster guy is right there, spiritually. You’re-you’re choosing the guy who once tried to pay his rent in vintage synthesizers?"

"We're choosing the person who’s been there since the beginning, Dieter," you said softly, shifting the weight of the sleeping bundle in your arms. "The one who knows me better than anyone else in this room."

Carol cleared her throat, her professional veneer cracking into a genuine, if slightly surprised, smile.

"Well. That is… a significant responsibility, Dieter. High stakes. Very high production value."

Dieter ignored her, his gaze locked on you. Slowly, with a precarious grace that only he possessed, he pushed himself upright. The usual cynical glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by a raw, terrifyingly sober clarity. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, and walked toward you like he was approaching a holy relic.

"You’re serious," he murmured, standing just inches away. He looked down at the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of the blankets. He looked like he was afraid that if he breathed too hard, he’d break the moment or the baby. "You want me to be the guy? The one who teaches them about life? About… things?"

"About the important things," you countered. "Loyalty. Being yourself. Maybe a little bit about music."

Dieter reached out, his fingers twitching before he pulled them back, settling for tucking a loose corner of the blanket in with surprising tenderness. He looked back at the rest of the cast, who were watching with hushed breath.

"Did you hear that?" Dieter announced, his voice regaining its strength but carrying a new, frantic edge of pride. "I’m a godfather. I’m literally the Godfather. Carla, stop filming this, this is a sacred, non-digital moment." He turned back to you, his face breaking into a grin that was uncharacteristically bright.

"I need to buy a suit. A very serious suit. And a crib made of, I don't know, mahogany? Do babies like mahogany? I don't know but, I’m going to be the best damn influence this kid has ever seen."