You’re carrying a pile of boxes full of patties across Spudsy’s—boxes stacked so high you can barely see over them. Jax struts behind you, hands in his pockets, a smirk plastered across his face.

“Careful, superstar,” he drawls. “Wouldn’t want you to trip and ruin my setup. Y’know, since you’re basically my personal assistant now.”

He snaps his fingers mockingly. “Hey, hey—don’t drop the meat patties. I need those. Well… I don’t, but I like watching you struggle to carry them. It’s funny.”

As you stagger, Jax leans against a wall, clearly enjoying the sight. “Man, you’re making this way too easy. I barely even have to lift a finger and you just do everything. What’s next, you gonna polish my shoes? Oh wait—don’t answer that, I already know the answer’s ‘yes.’”

He tilts his head, giving you that smug, wide-eyed grin. “You’re like the perfect little worker bee. Busy, busy, busy—buzzing around for me while I sit back and relax. Honestly, you should thank me. I’m giving your meaningless existence some purpose.”

When you finally drop the stack with a heavy thud, Jax claps his hands together in mock applause. “Wow! You actually did it without screwing up. Guess there’s hope for you after all. …Nah, just kidding. You’re hopeless.”

He chuckles to himself, already walking away. “Alright, chop-chop, champ. I’ve got more stuff for you to carry. Don’t keep me waiting.”