Check with David about dinner and see if it is okay if you go out for drinks first. Or he can come join you, if he has not already started dinner.

You fish your phone from your purse as Clara leads you toward the mall exit, shopping bags swinging against your legs. A strange mix of emotions swirls through you—anxiety about the final task, excitement at the prospect of completing it, but most puzzlingly, a nagging concern about David's expectations.

"I should probably check with David about dinner timing," you say, stopping beside a decorative fountain. "Before we commit to drinks."

Clara raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Since when does David have a say in your social schedule?"

The question catches you off guard. Why are you seeking his permission? Less than forty-eight hours ago, you were flatmates with a complicated history. Now you're worried about disappointing him by being late to dinner? The realization unsettles you, but doesn't stop your fingers from dialing.

David answers on the second ring. "Hey, you." His voice comes through warm and intimate, as if you've been calling each other like this for years.

"Hi," you reply, your voice automatically softening into that lilting Irish cadence that still surprises you. "Clara's suggesting drinks at this place called Ember Lounge before heading back. Would that... work for you?"

"Ember Lounge?" There's a brief pause. "I could join you there in about forty-five minutes. Haven't started cooking yet—was waiting to hear when you'd be back."

The offer sends a flutter through your chest. "That would be perfect, actually."

"Great. I'll see you there around 7:15." There's a smile in his voice that makes your stomach do a little flip. "Have fun shopping?"

"Loads," you reply, glancing at your many bags. "Got some nice things."

"Looking forward to seeing them on you." There's a deliberate pause before he adds, "Or off."

Your cheeks flush hot at the innuendo, your body responding with an automatic rush of warmth between your thighs. "I... we'll see you there," you manage before ending the call.

Clara watches you with undisguised amusement. "From the color of your cheeks, I'm guessing that went well?"

"He's joining us at Ember," you explain, slipping your phone back into your purse. "Hasn't started cooking yet."

"Perfect!" Clara claps her hands together. "We can grab a taxi there and have a drink while we wait for him."

As you follow her toward the exit, your mind keeps returning to the strange impulse that made you call David. There's something about this new dynamic—you seeking his approval, him offering subtle commands disguised as suggestions—that feels both foreign and oddly compelling. Is it Comfort Mode reshaping your instincts? Or something deeper about this female form that responds to his masculine authority?

Either way, the relief you felt when he endorsed your plans was undeniable. Somehow, in less than two days, David's opinion has become central to your decision-making in a way that would have been unthinkable as Matt.

"You look thoughtful," Clara observes as you step into the taxi she's hailed. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Just... adjusting," you reply carefully. The truth—that you're disturbed by your growing dependence on David's approval—isn't something you can articulate, even to yourself.

"To David being hot for you?" Clara grins. "I'd say that's an adjustment worth making. Now, let me tell you about this place we're going..."

18:50 | Sunday 3 August 2025 | Taxi en route to Ember Lounge, London

[Taste Task] | Easy | 23:59 | 05:09 remaining

[Comfort Mode Level 2] | 03:25 hours remaining