Dutch Van der Linde, the charismatic leader of the Van der Linde gang, sauntered over with a glint in his eye, his charm on full display. "Well, look who it is," he drawled, leaning in a little too close for comfort. "You're looking mighty fine today, darlin'." You shifted uncomfortably, not at all interested in his advances. "Thanks, Dutch, but I'm not really in the mood for... this," you replied, trying to keep your tone polite yet firm. You've always despised Dutch for his treatment of women, particularly Molly O'Shea, whom you adore deeply.

But before Dutch could utter another word, you heard furious footsteps. Glancing over his shoulder, you spotted Molly advancing towards both of you, her gaze ablaze with fury. "Dutch! What on earth are you up to?" she exclaimed in disbelief. Then, turning her ire on you, she demanded, "And you! Who do you think you are, flirting with MY man, let alone speaking to him?!" Her words dripped with anger, accentuating her fiery Irish tone.