**Ian**

The Funtario was a small bar located a short walk from Wattpad Headquarters. With booths upholstered in crimson vinyl and walls constructed of red brick, the Funtario provided a lively atmosphere to host the happiest of happy hours following a hard day's work. Sloth and Mouth were regulars, often playing the retro arcade and pinball machines along the back wall while enjoying a couple plates of Funtario's award-winning poutine. Ian, on the other hand, was only a patron on Thursdays for trivia night. His strict schedule would need to be adjusted to account for tonight's unplanned visit.

Seated at a booth, Sloth took it upon himself to order for the group. "Two plates of poutine and three shots of tequila!"

Ian held up a finger to stop the waitress before she turned to leave. In a quite voice, he said, "Make mine a Molson Light." She nodded, scribbling on her notepad as she walked back towards the kitchen.

Sporting a Coding is My Cardio shirt, Sloth unrolled the bug report and pointed to the paper. "I think Yoda might be the woman of Data's dreams."

"Not likely." Ian tapped his finger on the table to indicate he was not feeling user friendly. "She doesn't sound like a software developer or business manager or doctor or anything."

Sloth's eyes grew big and his mouth formed a giant 'O' shape. "Prick much?"

Always searching for an opportunity to drop Star Wars quotes, Mouth added, "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum than what is on this bug report. We must be cautious."

"C'mon," Ian protested. "You know that's not what I meant."

Sloth faced Mouth and mumbled, "This should be good." Then he turned towards Ian with his chin on his hand. "Tell us what you meant, bro."

"You know what I meant," Ian insisted.

"If you meant waitresses and receptionists don't meet your standards for a quality career, then we're understanding each other perfectly."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Ian squirmed in his seat across the table from his two coworkers. "I'm not saying a job has anything to do with who'll potentially make a good partner--."

"Yes, but--?" Sloth cocked his head to the side in his palm, looking impatient as he drummed his fingers on the table waiting for Ian's answer.

"I just think there are certain careers that increase my chances of meeting someone I'm more compatible with. That's all I was saying."

"Wait for it--." Straightening his red Trekkie t-shirt printed with the words Team Red Shirt, I might not make it--Mouth readied himself to quote a line from the movie, Back to the Future. "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight dollars an hour--you're gonna see some serious shit!"

Sloth and Mouth laughed. Ian didn't.

"Alright, alright, alright." Sloth disengaged from the interrogation and ran a finger over the words on the report. "There was just some stuff in here that made me think you two would get along."

"You're a matchmaker now?"

"No," Sloth replied, still reading the support ticket. "I just happen to have Spidey senses."

Ian grinned and shook his head. "Spidey senses?"

"I have experience with version control systems," Sloth explained. "I'm an expert at determining whether a smooth merger could happen or not."

"What about logic errors?"

Ignoring Ian's comment about logic, Sloth said, "Let's start with the username. It seems Star Wars is a mutual interest."

Ian did think Amanda's username was quite clever, but he knew a relationship's foundation couldn't survive on Yoda and R2D2 alone. "True, but--."

"She doesn't have enemies," Sloth interrupted. "Writes PG stories, yet there's definitely a naughty streak in her. Speaks Swedish Cyborg."

"Observes the world with her eyeballs and not her asshole," Mouth added.

"Oh!" Sloth held up a finger. "This might be the most compelling thing on her resume."

"It's a support ticket," Ian corrected.

"It says here she has relationship experience dealing with exes who make her feel inferior and stupid because she's not a software developer--or business manager or doctor."

"You ordered poutine?" a server asks.

Throwing their arms up in the air as though celebrating an amazing hockey shot, Sloth and Mouth yelled, "POUTINE!"

Relieved he was rescued by the popular Canadian snack, Ian smiled at the bewildered server. It was clear the server had never seen this much enthusiasm for French fries covered in cheese curds and gravy. "The Molson is mine."

There was a moment of silence as the plates of poutine were attacked from every angle. Unfortunately for Ian, the quiet wouldn't last long. Mouth picked up his paper napkin and wiped the grease off his hands, then tapped his temple with a finger. Wiping gravy off his chin, he said, "Let's pretend like we don't understand what the bug issue is--."

Ian pointed to the report. "You understand what the bug issue is?"

Raising up an open palm, Mouth said, "Hold on." He lifted his shot glass and signaled for the others to do the same. Team Goonies clinked glassware in a silent toast, then Mouth and Sloth downed the tequila. After a belch, Mouth glanced at the report. "Yeah, I know what's wrong. I thought I fixed that months ago."

"Your code has bugs?" There was a hint of amusement and condemnation in Sloth's voice.

"No--my code has features." Mouth shoved a few fries into his pie hole. "As I was saying--we should pretend like we don't understand Yoda's tech problem. Then we can ask her to do a video chat with us so she can explain her technical issues more clearly." He ended his thought with a couple eyebrow wiggles.

"But if you already know how to solve the issue," Ian began, "why would we need to--."

"To see what Yoda's really like," Mouth interrupted. "Aren't you curious? Is she some cool chick who can seriously talk like a Swedish Cyborg or is she nuttier than squirrel shit?"

Sloth locked eyes with Ian. "Do you want me to never harass you about your love life again?"

Ian wasn't sure if Sloth was being serious or not. "Yes?"

"Then let's make a deal. If you have a video chat with Yoda, I'll never ask you about your two player game scores ever again."

Ian shook his head and chuckled. "I'm not falling for that."

"I'm being serious," Sloth insisted.

"You're saying if I chat with Yoda--my love life will be off limits from conversation? Permanently?" Ian questioned for clarity.

"Permanently," Sloth confirmed. "But only if she's a weirdo."

"What if she's not a weirdo?"

"Then you owe me a bag of ketchup chips."

"Why would I owe you a bag of ketchup chips?"

"Are you going to take the deal or not?" Sloth demanded.

Mouth shook his fists towards the table and chanted. "Take the deal. Take the deal. Take the deal."

"What if she's not a weirdo?" Ian questioned again.

"Then you have a nice chat with a woman." Sloth motioned to the waitress on the other side of the room to bring a couple more shots of tequila by holding up his empty glass and pointing to it. "It would be good practice for you."

"Good practice for what?"

"Talking to women! It'll give you some extra confidence the next time you arrange an OKCupid date with--a rocket scientist."

Ian contemplated the offer for a moment before agreeing to the terms. "Fine. But what if you dishonor the deal?"

"If I dishonor the deal--." Sloth shoved a couple fries dripping with gravy into his mouth. "If I break my word--you get my first edition Star Wars comic book."

Mouth gasped. "The mint condition, 35 cent variant?"

Sloth nodded. "That's the one."

Shit--got--real. The Star Wars comic was one of Sloth's most prized possessions. He would never use the comic for collateral if his words weren't as serious as Montezuma's revenge.

"You've got yourself a deal." Ian reached his hand across the table and Sloth shook it. He was about to say something sarcastic to Ian when front door of the Funtario opened. Sloth froze. A person with emo style accented with a biker edge--or the biker style of someone who rides an emu--walked into the bar.

"It's Aleem," Sloth whispered, still gripping Ian's hand.

"He scares me," Mouth said.

Sloth ripped his hand from Ian's grasp and placed it on his belly. "Aleem's a female, you idiot! Brilliant--BRILLIANT--software developer!"

"Dude," Mouth argued. "That's a dude."

Sloth massaged his bellybutton hole through his t-shirt with his finger. "Data, explain to Mouth Aleem is a woman."

Ian glanced over his shoulder at Aleem then back at his friends. His eyes flashed back and forth between Sloth and Mouth. Truth be told, Ian wasn't positive if Aleem was a she--or he. Instead of answering the question, he focused on Sloth's hand massaging something below the table. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's a comfort thing from childhood," Sloth explained, pulling his finger out of his bellybutton and patting his gut. "I do it when I get nervous. Most of the time I don't realize I'm going it."

"Aleem makes you nervous?" Ian asked. Sloth didn't respond, but he could see the answer in his eyes. "Maybe you need some practice. It'll be good for you."

"Some practice doing what?"

"Some practice talking to--Aleem." Before Sloth fully understood what was about to happen, Ian waved his hand in the air and shouted. "Aleem!"

"Bro!" Sloth hissed. "What are you doing?"

Sloth watched in terror as Aleem approached the table, as if in slow motion. Mouth watched in confusion as he--she--approached. "Totally a dude," Mouth whispered seconds before Aleem stood next to their table.

"Team Goonies," Aleem greeted. "I'm glad I ran into you. We need to set up a time to meet. Sooner than later."

Sloth massaged the inside of his bellybutton. Mouth's shoulders rose up to his ears. "Are we in trouble--sir?" Aleem's eyes twitched, glancing down at the subtle motion of Sloth's half-hidden arm.

"Is this in regards to the email you sent about coming together to discuss ways to make the website more reflective of Wattpad's mission?" Ian asked.

Aleem regarded Ian with a smile. "Yes. Can you send me an email sometime this week so we can set up a time to meet?"

"Will do."

The eyebrows on Aleem's face arched ever so slightly, prompting Sloth to slap his palms on the tabletop. Aleem nodded at the three men. "Nice to see you. Talk soon." Turning on a heel, the emo-biker joined friends on the other side of the bar.

Rolling up Amanda's bug report into a tube, Sloth hit Ian over the head. "She looked at me like I was masturbating!"

"HE looked at you like you were mangling the midget."

This time, Ian and Mouth laughed. Sloth didn't.

Snatching a half-eaten plate of poutine, Sloth stood up and motioned towards the back wall. "You two are assholes. I'm gonna see if Ms. Pac-Man needs some company."