You sighed. Your mother had invited Tyler Owens, infamous Tornado Wrangler, and rival to your own storm chasing team to stay the night after he showed up at your childhood home.

You found him in the barn, where you had all your old equipment for chasing. He held papers, equations of a product you were working on in his hands. You slowly approached him, lips pursed. “Touchin’ my stuff?” you asked, startling him.