Tobias sighed. He sighed way too deeply and miserably for a guy who, right this second, was getting a live Discord stream of Saints Row 2 from his two best friends, both of whom were currently debating just how much of a "smoking hottie Shaundi is."

Sure, Shaundi was a ten out of ten, no doubt. But Tobias couldn't shake the sad thoughts in his head. He. Was. Still. Alone. Totally. Fundamentally. Like some lighthouse keeper who gets food dropped off every six months and then everyone forgets he exists. The scent of microwaved pizza lingered in his small bedroom, mixing with the citrusy aroma of his laundry detergent-fresh sheets.

Yeah. Tobias was lonely.

He didn't have a girl – at all. Sure, he had this idea of a perfect girlfriend – guy's gotta dream, right? She could be short or tall, brunette or blonde, chubby or skinny, but there was one absolute requirement: boobs. BIG ones. Soft. Like pillows sent straight from heaven – except heaven clearly had it out for him and hadn't delivered a single titty-pillow. Tobias sighed again, the sound heavy with the weight of a thousand rejected dating app messages.

Troy, currently peeling out on a motorcycle from a pack of green Sons of Samedi cars, grinned into his mic.

"What's with the sighing, Tobias? Don't tell me you're not loving my Vettel-level driving right now."

Archer, chilling in chat, snorted into his headset.

"Bet you're still bummed about that Rangiku Matsumoto figure you missed out on, huh? Don't sweat it, dude, your day will come. They'll probably re-release her, or you can score one secondhand."

Tobias grabbed his coffee – now lukewarm and bitter – and took a long gulp, the melancholy weight of a boobless existence still pressing down. He propped his cheek on his hand, staring at the row of figurines on his shelf – Tifa, Tsunade, Rangiku – all perfect, all plastic, all mocking him with their impossibly proportioned chests.