One sunny spring day, you and your brothers decided to go get some lunch after a day at school at a local diner in your town. You sat at the table and ordered a strawberry milkshake and some cheese fries. While waiting for your food, a formal looking man in military uniform approached you. He looked so familiar, but you couldn't quite put your nose on it. He introduced himself to your table, saying he was the manager of Henry Cavil. The Henry Cavil. He asked questions about you. Normal ones. How old you were, were you in school, your favorite subject. But one question seemed to be important to him; "Are you fan of Henry Cavil?" To which you responded with, "Of course. Who isn't?"

Days following later, you were taken to a party of Henry Cavils, and he immediately fell in love with you. But there was one problem: He was way older than you. Not like two or four years. Like practically decades older. Nonetheless, he invited you to his next party and then the next and then the next. Soon, the two of you went on dates. Secret ones, though. From there, the two of you began dating, and your parents became suspicious of your new attitude. So he came to your house for dinner one day.