an explanation for her behavior

Tammy leaned back in the chair, swiveling lazily, her eyes catching the glow of the monitor like a cat’s. She tilted her head at you, reading your doubt as if it were written across your forehead.

“You still don’t get it, huh? Alright, listen. First thing you gotta understand—” she gestured broadly with those long, manicured fingers, the rhinestone nails catching the dim light—“I have to be Tammy. When people see me, when they talk to me, when they expect a certain voice or look? I can’t break character. Not once. That’s not optional. That’s survival.”

Her tone firmed, just enough Randall came through under the gloss. “If some paparazzo hears me belch like Randall or say ‘bro’ in line at Starbucks, that’s it. Headlines. Questions. Maybe worse.” She sat up straighter, then softened the edge with a smile that could’ve sold perfume. “So yeah. When there’s people around, I’m Tammy. No breaks.”

You shifted, nodding, but the tightness in your shoulders stayed.

Tammy noticed. Her smile curved wider, almost sly. “Second thing? You think I’m, like, forcing this?” She waved her hand down her body, the voice, the mannerisms. “It’s not hard. It’s not even work. I don’t sit there like, ‘Oh God, gotta be girly now.’ It just… flows. Like I open the tap and out comes Tammy.” She tapped her temple, then her chest. “Doctors said something about brain graft, subconscious habits, whatever. But honestly? I think it’s just me. It’s easy.”

Your mouth felt dry, though you didn’t want to admit why.

Then she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, grin flashing bright. “And third—most important—it’s fun. Dude, you know me. I was always the class clown. Voices, impressions, dumb stunts just to make people laugh? This—” she spun in the chair again, hair flying, then landed facing you with a perfect reality-TV pout, lips pursed, hand cocked on her hip—“is the ultimate bit. A whole new character. A walking, talking prank that the entire world buys.”

The absurdity hit you like a punchline you weren’t sure you should laugh at.

Tammy saw the flicker in your expression and seized on it. “That’s why I gave you the full "Tammy Barnes Experience" the second you walked in. Pure prank, straight out of the Randall playbook. Gets you rattled, gets me giggling, and—” her gaze sharpened, conspiratorial, “—gets you used to the version of me you’ll be seeing every damn day once we’re out there. This? Is your boss now, Timmy.”

She flicked her blonde hair with a flourish, tossed you a wink so dazzling it felt rehearsed, then let Randall’s laugh rip through it, breaking the glam illusion just enough to make the whole thing more surreal.