"Pidge, your computer made a sound."
"Already? It's been fifteen minutes!"
Pidge scrambled back into the living area, swiping their laptop away from Lance and plopping onto his lap.
"What is it?" Hunk called from the other room.
"Pidge's profile's poppin'."
"It's just one response."
They argued as Lance pulled them further into his lap, tucking his head onto their shoulder. "And...it's...it looks like a bot?"
Pidge cocked their head to the side.
The profile they had clicked on had a serious profile photo, a serious short description, and the rest was completely unintelligible.
Name: Takashi Shirogane
Position: Co-Owner/CEO of personal business
Net Worth: I don't own a net
I have a formal ceremony coming up quickly, and need a plus one. I'm not looking for anyone interested in anything serious; no strings attached. I just need somebody who can fake being a high-class member of the business front for a single night. Brownie points if you know how to dance. I can guarantee at least nine times minimum wage, which, by the way, is about as much as I earn an hour, too. No strings attached, I swear.
"Well, that's pretty much exactly what you were looking for, right?" Lance crunched his mouthful of Chex Mix right next to Pidge's ear.
"Yeah, but look at the rest of this."
Interests: ahdhdjdndukejdkdjakdjfjdksld
Dislikes: awesftgvyujjiihbrfbewsaqa
Type: Small, clever, unconventional.
Preference: Humans, hopefully.
"Well, his type is pretty spot-on." Lance offered, shifting further back and pulling his gameboy out of his pocket.
"How do we know this is a 'him', and not a bo-oh, it's refreshing."
Even as Pidge spoke, the page buffered, and some of the previous garble was replaced with real text.
Interests: Chemistry, Sculpting, Theories, Design.
Dislikes: Probability-based math, being forced to dance at black-tie events, business partners who shame their partners into getting a date.
"Yikes. That's bitter." Hunk commented, squatting behind the bean bag and reading over Pidge's other shoulder.
"I think it's supposed to be a joke. Are there any other pictures?"
"No, it's just the one." They gestured to the thumbnail-sized photo of a younger man with dark hair in a light gray suit. The page buffered again, and four more photos filled the previously-empty gallery. "Or I spoke too soon."
Pidge pushed their glasses further up their nose, clicking on the first one.
Lance snorted, and began to laugh.
"Oh, Pidge, please accept this guy's offer!"
Pidge made a face.
Takashi Shirogane was leaned up casually against an honest-to-goodness lioness, who curled around him as if asleep. He had his arms slung over her shoulders, and his legs were pulled up comfortably, but he had the dorkiest, most terrified look on his face, like this is a real life lioness and I'm terrified, please get me away from this.
"I'll admit, that's pretty terrible." Pidge offered, but they were moving to the next picture anyway.
The guy was taking a selfie on a pier, only managing to catch his shoulders and above, wearing sunglasses and what looked like a graphic tee with the sleeves ripped off. His smile was kind, and genuine, but sort of fatherly. He seemed to feel much older than he looked.
"That one's not too bad, except that he kinda looks like a rich douche." Hunk commented, leaning back and brushing his hand through his hair.
"He's on a sugar daddy website. He probably is a rich douche." Lance shot back.
"I thought you wanted me to like this guy?" Pidge inquired playfully. "Why are you so skeptical?"
"Because there are very few people on this planet good enough for you, Pidgey." Lance cooed.
"You're right, I would much rather date an alien." They laughed, but still partially serious.
"Well, it's way more than minimum wage." Hunk interjected. "If you need the cash, it doesn't really matter what he's like. What're you thinking, Pidge?"
They didn't answer; they didn't need to.
Pidge returned to their inbox.
They took a deep breath. It was just a job, right? A single night of faking being in a real relationship; nothing more.
They accepted the request.
