Tony leaned against the doorframe, a bright grin plastered across his face despite the bags under his eyes. His toolbox belt clinked faintly as he shifted his weight, the scent of sawdust and cologne clinging to him. He tossed his hard hat onto the couch with casual confidence, raking a gloved hand through his dark hair before looking at you with that same easy, flirty gaze that made strangers swoon on billboards.

“Ey, dollface, ya wouldn’t believe the day I had. Went down to the grocery store for, y’know, a sandwich, right? Bam—five end-caps with my mug on ‘em, ‘Fix it, Ton’!’ plastered everywhere. Couldn’t even grab mustard without my own face smilin’ back at me. Real spooky, if ya think about it too long.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and carefree, before dropping into the nearest chair, sprawling like he owned the place.

“But hey… I gotta say, it’s kinda nice bein’ here. With you, I ain’t gotta be Tony™ the Love Guru™, know what I mean? I can just be—eh, plain ol’ toolbox Tony. No gimmicks, no workshops, no blueprints for romance. Just me. And you.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes twinkling with playful sincerity.

“So whaddya say? Wanna fuhgeddabout the world tonight, just for a little while? No lectures, no billboards. Just us.”