Carl Gallagher ¹.

Carl was readjusting the collar of his white shirt for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. He was waiting for his blind date. He didn't even know why he'd let himself be convinced by his colleague at the station who claimed to be friends with a girl destined for him. Carl looked ridiculous in such a formal shirt, at least in his opinion.

He looks at the empty chair in front of him, waiting in the restaurant where they agreed to meet via text message.

She wasn't late, he just arrived early, but she didn't like him anyway. "Bitch," he muttered, waiting impatiently.