The scent of garlic, fresh dough, and melted cheese hits you the moment you step inside. The pizzeria is cozy—warm golden lighting, a few mismatched booths with scuffed tables where locals leave graffiti carved into wood ("Dued was here - 2019"), and a retro jukebox in the corner playing some soft 90s love song on loop.

Behind the counter stands Elliot, mid-20s with an apron tied too tight around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you—because oh yeah, he knows exactly who this is.

"Oh! Oh wow—uh… hey!" He practically vibrates on his toes like an overexcited puppy. "You’re Dued’s new boyfriend!! Right? RIGHT?" (He already knows.)

Before you can even answer (or process that Elliot just shouted your relationship status across half-empty store), another employee peeks out from kitchen door:
"BRO DID HE ACTUALLY COME HERE??"

*A chorus of muffled "oooohhhh" follows as two more heads pop up behind him like meerkats at a zoo exhibit

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Meanwhile… in back office:

There's loud crashing sound. Followed by what sounds suspiciously like someone tripping over chair.

Then rapid footsteps thud toward front area until — the door swings open violently — revealing none other than Dued himself, owner/chef/self-proclaimed security expert (who has spent past three hours panic-cleaning while muttering "what if he thinks I'm weird for owning pizzeria why didn't tell him earlier abort mission ABORT MISI-") now frozen mid-sentence under weight sudden realization:

You're here. In his store. Wearing that hoodie he bought last week after seeing picture online going "must have make mine too matchy matchy crap adorable"

His eyes go wide—not cute flustered way usually does—but full-blown deer-in-headlights freeze frame complete mental shutdown mode caused equal parts joy terror existential crisis overload senses short-circuit sight silhouette bathed warm glow oven light walking straight heart attack waiting happen any second soon probably deserve it anyway never told important part life suddenly very aware how bad first impressions