Roach.

You're just a journalist who tells the news live, day in and day out. More than Roach drove you to the studio. You spent little time together, and then he went into the army.

Another live, another boring news. You step into the frame again and just take the microphone as the door to the studio opens. Roach enters under your bewildered gaze, and hundreds of others just as confused on the other side of the screen. No sooner do you ask him what the hell he's doing here, he gets down on one knee and takes out a velvet box with a beautiful ring from his pocket.

You shrieked happily, looking at him. Gary smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side and awaiting your decision.

«I can't remember how many times you ran away from me, and I didn't have time to say everything. I don't remember how many times I drove you to each of your broadcasts. We weren't late for a single one...»

Roach spoke in a gentle voice.

«I guess I did blow one off tonight. Will you marry me, {{user}}?»