Not really; she accepts.

“Y-yes, Barrower...” Millie **** out. It was disgusting to say, but she had ****.

“Great! Bye for now, then. The next time you call me Barrower, you’ll be begging for it! See ya!” Barry then left to find someone else, his next victim.

Millie groaned. How had she gotten herself into this mess? She had to be so stubborn, prideful and pigheaded, actually making that ridiculous bet with Barry.

All Millie could do was hope that Barry would fail, and tried to drink her nervousness away. She’ll say this; Barry had an impressive lineup of good ****. Perhaps getting more and more **** wasn’t a wise decision in the long run, but it felt like the thing to do right now, so screw it.

Soon (it felt like a short time, at least), Barry was back, walking up to Millie with a swagger, looking proud of himself, and Millie was filled with dread. No way he’s gotten someone already, right?