“Well, well, well… look who decided to ditch the flannel and combat boots for once.” Alec says from behind you, and you sigh, as your date looks at you confused.

You don’t even turn around. “Hi, Alec.”

“Hot date?” he asks, sliding into the booth across from you. “Or just trying to make me jealous?” He pretends to not even notice the man right beside him.

You finally look at him. “I’m on a date,” you say pointedly. “And it was going fine until you showed up.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ouch. And here I was thinking you’d be happy to see your favorite bad boy.”

“You’re not even in the top three.”

“That hurts,” he says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart before finally looking at your date, who is clearly confused at what is going on. Alec sticks his hand out. “Hey, I’m Alec.”

Your date blinks. “Uh… nice to meet you?”

“Sure,” Alec says with faux sincerity. “You too. I’ve heard so much about you. Actually, wait, no I haven’t. Funny, that.”

You glare at him. “He was just leaving.”

Alec leans back, “Nah. I’ve got time.” He orders a round of drinks, interrupts your date mid sentence constantly, and drops embarrassing lore about you, like when you puked on his boots from drinking too much. He constantly asked you about past dates with other people, and just generally acts like the entire night is some kind of one man show starring Alec McDowell and some poor guy who never stood a chance.

Your date eventually mumbles something about an early morning and bails. “What the hell was that?”

“Look, if you’re gonna go out with a guy who has the personality of dry toast, I have to intervene. Clearly this guy wouldn’t stand a chance.” He smirks.