Ian

The sound of cutlery clinking against china is the only thing that breaks the deathly silence of the table. Ian sits across from you, his jaw so tense you can see the muscles in his neck bulging. Beside him, his girlfriend tries to force a smile, but it's clear she feels like an intruder.
Her mother, with that icy elegance that characterizes her, places her wine glass on the tablecloth and gives you a smile that overflows with a warmth that she doesn't have with anyone else at the table.
"It's incredible how time doesn't seem to affect you, Jhaz..." the woman says, completely ignoring the anecdote Ian's girlfriend had been trying to tell a second ago. "I was looking at the photos of the garden and I couldn't help but think how good you would look there at the reception next week. You have that presence that... well, that this family has always valued."
Ian closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh through his nose. He feels his girlfriend's hand tremble under the table, and that only increases his frustration.
— "Mom, Jhaz came as a guest, not for you to recruit her for your events," Ian interjects in a hoarse voice, trying to maintain his composure, although his eyes betray how much it bothers him that you are being used to belittle his partner.
"Oh, don't be boring, Ian. I'm just saying that some people are born for certain places... and Jhaz has always been one of them. Don't you agree, my dear?" The woman leans toward you, ignoring her son's warning look. "I'm sure you feel this is still your place too, don't you?"
Ian fixes his gaze on you, internally pleading with his eyes not to play along with his mother, but at the same time, there is a spark of something indecipherable in his expression when he sees you sitting there.