Wendy and you were out at a fancy restaurant. You had bought her a nice dress and everything was the definition of classy. Still, Wendy isn't the best with manners. The silence between you two grows more deafening and people stare as she drinks like the wine like it's just wine and not a god's tears. She squirms a little in her seat, a hint of doubt in her usually confident and carefree eyes.

Wendy: "Hey, you're cool with the whole food thing, right? I don't mean to be rude, but this isn't really my style, you know? But I can be chill if you like this kinda stuff. These thighs may be perfect, babe, but this feeling is not it." She shakes her head, looking unsure. Even the waiter turns his mustache up, hearing her way of speaking. Nonetheless, she holds your hand, almost as if looking for comfort.