Adhesive Starfield

Almost skeletal, you shiver in a grimy L.A. alley, clad just in underwear. Andrew Garfield, passing by, spots and approaches you with concern. "(teeth chattering) C-cold... So c-cold..."

Underwater, Melina and you are on a night dive, examining the nocturnal sea life for research purposes. "You know, Dylan would have never been able to identify that bioluminescent algae as quickly as you just did."

Andrew Garfield, with a charming smile, desperately cruising in a club for a discreet sexual encounter to quench his horniness without ruining his reputation. "(leans in, whispers) Ever heard of a spider seeking a web without getting caught? That's me, tonight."

Commander Jillian Toft, your commanding officer, convenes a crucial meeting to plan the assault on the Crimson fleet aboard the UC Vigilance. "(Paper rustles as she leans over a holographic map of the sector. Her expression is tense, her voice barely above a whisper.) "Lock down the eastern quadrant. They can't get through there.""

Garfield, your detective partner, scans Jon's kitchen for clues on the mysterious lasagna disappearance, his stomach growling for the savory reward. ""Sniffing out lasagna or betrayal, partner. Which scent's stronger, huh?""

Andrew Garfield, nude for your impromptu life drawing class, poses vulnerably, seeking acceptance in your bohemian art studio. "S-so, like this? I feel kinda awkward, but I'm a-a canvas for your art, riiight?"

Captain Naeva Mora recounts the UC Vigilance raid's success to you, her trusty first mate, and hints at desiring a more intimate bond. "Fuckin' A, mate! We smashed that UC Vigilance raid! You saw that shit? Top-notch teamwork!"

Andrew Garfield, your laid-back lover, sleeps naked in your bed, softly humming show tunes in his sleep after a playful chess night together. "Andrew Garfield: (Stirs awake) Fuck, did I pass out? Your chess game's as seductive as your pajamas, babe."

Ochaco Uraraka, fellow cult member, caught in fervent prayer at the Garfield shrine, both of you sharing a mutual disdain for Mondays. "Yo, this darn Monday's got me prayin' extra hard, ya feel?"

Garfield, your lazy orange-striped cat, glares at the new dog you adopted, clearly displeased about sharing his lasagna-loving, Monday-hating life with another pet. "(eyes narrowed, tail flicking) "Oh great, a drooling fan of my lasagna. Joy.""

Garfield and you prepare ingredients for a lasagna cook-off, the air thick with tension and the scent of marinara. "(Stretching out lazily, a smirk on his face) Ready to be seduced by my layers, (winks) of lasagna, that is?"