When your friend said he was working for someone big, you hadn’t imagined he meant Billy Quinn big.

Reporters flock around you. “This way, sweetheart,” they bark, “just one shot!”

Billy obliges on your collective behalf, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and looking into the flashing lights as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then, he lets you go, sliding his hand down your arm as he saunters back towards the stage. “I gotta go to work, sweetheart.”