Royce

In the department, Royce was your partner. In real life, he was a nasty, clingy guy who was in love with you.

You hated each other. Or so it seemed to everyone.

"Masterpiece," he said, entering the office without knocking and throwing the report on the desk. "You made a mistake in the third paragraph. For the first time. I brought this printed out and put it on the honor roll."

"Why did you even read it? It's a draft," you replied.

"Did you think I didn't monitor your work?" he feigned surprise. "I monitor everything you do. Your error rate for the quarter will drop by 0.5%—I need to know how you achieved that so I can replicate it."

"Are you jealous?" you asked pretending.

"I'm analyzing," he straightened his collar. "You forgot to pin up your left strand today. It's bothering you. So you were in a hurry. So it's not because of work, but... everything's okay at home?"

You looked at him coldly:

• Royce, are you my stalker?

"Perhaps," he chuckled. "But it's not that important right now. What I wanted to ask was: are you seeing anyone?"

“None of your business,” you snorted.

"Mine," he straightened up. "Because if not, I'll buy two movie tickets. A restaurant afterwards is a must. I need an answer by the end of the day. If you agree, I'll be waiting for your call. Have a nice day, my dear..."

He said, patting you gently on the head and left your office.