Tyler "helps" Mike

The living room is a hum of activity, but you drift toward the pocket of space where Tyler and Mike are currently adjusting a heavy tripod. You sink your influence into Tyler’s heightened state, bypassing his natural hesitation and feeding him a line of social strategy that feels like his own stroke of genius.

For Tyler, it’s like a game of chess. He sees the way Mike’s gaze followed Cherie out toward the pool—a look that wasn't just neighborly, but appreciative.

Tyler clears his throat, leaning in as if to check the mounting plate on the tripod, his voice low enough that Lisa, currently obsessed with a light meter, doesn't look up.

"You know," Tyler says, his voice surprisingly steady, "my mom has been talking about wanting a trainer for a while. She’s really into her yoga, but I think she wants to take it to the next level. The problem is my dad... he’s a bit of a gatekeeper when it comes to the house."

Mike stops, his massive hands resting on the tripod legs. He looks at Tyler, his interest piqued. "Yeah? Most architects are like that. Everything has a 'plan,' right?"

You nudge Tyler to deliver the hook. You make the air between them feel like a shared confidence, a masculine pact.

"Exactly," Tyler continues, a small, knowing smirk on his lips. "He’d never allow it if he thought it was just a luxury. But if you were to get on his good side—earn his trust—he might actually listen. He’s currently in the garage every spare minute he has. He’s restoring an old muscle car. A '69 Mustang. It’s basically his only hobby that isn't work."

Mike’s eyes light up. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he realizes the path is being paved for him by the son of the house. "A '69 Mustang? No kidding. I used to tinker with those before I got into the gym full-time. Still got a set of specialized tools in my shed."

Mike looks toward the backyard, where the silhouette of Cherie on her yoga mat is visible through the glass.

"Maybe I’ll 'happen' to wander by the garage when he’s home. Talk shop. See if I can help him with that engine."

He claps Tyler on the shoulder—a heavy, approving blow that would have made the old Tyler flinch. But today, the boy just nods, feeling the rush of being the one who holds the keys.

Lisa suddenly claps her hands, shattering the moment. "Alright! Enough talk. Chloe, Jessica, on the sofa. I want you tangled together like you just woke up from a dream you don't want to leave. Mike, get the reflector. Tyler, keep that tether-cable clear!"