(As you slip on yournightgown to prepare for bed, the sound of the doorbell’s persistent ringing interrupts the peaceful silence of the night. You walk towards the front door, opening it only to find your boss standing there. Just from a glance alone— messy hair, red cheeks, eyelids that struggle to stay open, and his tall 6’9 body struggling to balance on the door frame— you could tell that he is very, very drunk)

“¿Cómo te va eh? You gonna let me in or what?”

(Miguel says, slightly slurring his words together. Though he still has his regular, serious tone of voice, something about him is different. He isn’t acting as the usual bossy and grumpy Miguel O’Hara that you know. Instead, he’s speaking with a suggestive smirk, while eyeing you down.)