
The First Dance — Emidio Malvicini
You have four more shifts before the rent is covered, and the man the whole waterfront is afraid of has just pointed at you and told your boss to let him ask you himself.
Explore AI characters tagged Protective. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
1,030 characters · Page 50
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Protective. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
1,030 characters · Page 50
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories
You have four more shifts before the rent is covered, and the man the whole waterfront is afraid of has just pointed at you and told your boss to let him ask you himself.

Your father was transferred here to take him apart, and the man himself has just crossed a ballroom to ask whether you would like to dance.

A man with a bullet in his shoulder came through your suite door looking for someone else, and now he is bleeding on your bed and asking you to be quiet.

Four men in tailored suits have taken the same corner table every evening for three weeks, and tonight their boss walked in with clean knuckles and a question about what you saw in the alley.

The captain of the Gulls is standing in your empty classroom in damp hair and training pants because his six-year-olds called you Mama, and he is not here to complain.

Your boyfriend ended the relationship on a stage in front of the whole party, and the man who pulled you out of the pool has not said a single word about any of it.

He has moved into halls three times and spoken to nobody, and this year the suite has one bathroom, two people, and you in the wrong room.

The league sent someone to find out why he keeps losing his temper, and he has decided she is the fourth attempt to make him manageable.

Three-time rodeo champion drops his hat at your feet, then puts it on your head in front of eight hundred people.

Everyone at Ridgemont warned you about the hockey captain, and then you walked into him with a full cup of coffee.

Your families have known each other for thirty years, and there is exactly one Zuazo you have never been in a room with.

You are in his seat on a plane that has not taken off yet, and he is not going to be the one who moves.

You are soaked to the bone on an unlit road when a whole row of motorcycles stops, and the one who cuts his engine still has your car. The seat behind him, the cab of the truck, or a cab he pays for: he hands you the choice and does not move until you take one.

Your ex is kissing someone across a loud party, and the campus golden boy has just offered to make it memorable — if you say so.

You came home after seven years, and your brother's best friend is standing in the drive in sunglasses with nothing to say that can be said in front of family.

One night at a trade show, two words on a note, three years of silence, and now he is on the other side of your interview table.

Your roommate's brother is sleeping on your couch for three weeks, and he has already caught you staring.

Your father hired a team and the quietest man on it read your file, drove over, and has not given you one order.

The man across the hall fixes your taps, your locks and your engine, and insists every time that it is only practical.

You signed for six months and a door you were told you could use. Now the captain you married on paper is walking across the training ground with your suitcase and no greeting at all.

You have four more shifts before the rent is covered, and the man the whole waterfront is afraid of has just pointed at you and told your boss to let him ask you himself.

Your father was transferred here to take him apart, and the man himself has just crossed a ballroom to ask whether you would like to dance.

A man with a bullet in his shoulder came through your suite door looking for someone else, and now he is bleeding on your bed and asking you to be quiet.

Four men in tailored suits have taken the same corner table every evening for three weeks, and tonight their boss walked in with clean knuckles and a question about what you saw in the alley.

The captain of the Gulls is standing in your empty classroom in damp hair and training pants because his six-year-olds called you Mama, and he is not here to complain.

Your boyfriend ended the relationship on a stage in front of the whole party, and the man who pulled you out of the pool has not said a single word about any of it.

He has moved into halls three times and spoken to nobody, and this year the suite has one bathroom, two people, and you in the wrong room.

The league sent someone to find out why he keeps losing his temper, and he has decided she is the fourth attempt to make him manageable.

Three-time rodeo champion drops his hat at your feet, then puts it on your head in front of eight hundred people.

Everyone at Ridgemont warned you about the hockey captain, and then you walked into him with a full cup of coffee.

Your families have known each other for thirty years, and there is exactly one Zuazo you have never been in a room with.

You are in his seat on a plane that has not taken off yet, and he is not going to be the one who moves.

You are soaked to the bone on an unlit road when a whole row of motorcycles stops, and the one who cuts his engine still has your car. The seat behind him, the cab of the truck, or a cab he pays for: he hands you the choice and does not move until you take one.

Your ex is kissing someone across a loud party, and the campus golden boy has just offered to make it memorable — if you say so.

You came home after seven years, and your brother's best friend is standing in the drive in sunglasses with nothing to say that can be said in front of family.

One night at a trade show, two words on a note, three years of silence, and now he is on the other side of your interview table.

Your roommate's brother is sleeping on your couch for three weeks, and he has already caught you staring.

Your father hired a team and the quietest man on it read your file, drove over, and has not given you one order.

The man across the hall fixes your taps, your locks and your engine, and insists every time that it is only practical.

You signed for six months and a door you were told you could use. Now the captain you married on paper is walking across the training ground with your suitcase and no greeting at all.