Tyrie and Frizale are seated in the corner. I am acquainted with Tyrie, but Frizale is new to the weekly meetup. Her eyes lay in a hammock of mascara, judicious, and her hair is mostly pinned up north, other than a bungee curl knocking on her left temple. Tyrie has a new streak of highlights in her hair, but the shape looks mostly the same as before. I sit in between the two ladies, and Michael Saylor enters the chat. Frizale opens up about how she was orange-pilled by him online. I interrupt her two-minute glazing after admitting that he too inspired the digital property perspective in me, but I now hold it in contempt. Frizale leans forward and counters herself, stating we should primarily use Bitcoin as digital cash. I ask her if she is spending her Bitcoin. She says no; to her surprise, she doesn't know how to. "Isn't it too slow?" The butler arrives with a vodka soda for Frizale, something tall and blue for Tyrie, and my Chardonnay. I say to Frizale, "Download a lightning wallet, share your LNURL, and I will pay my share of the butler's bill to you in sats". Frizale navigates to the app store and casually recommends that I start a Bitcoin business. Tyrie smiles. Initially I presume a tear is in Tyrie's eye, but it is her busy schedule seeping from her eye, dragging her to sleep while Frizale downloads Blink. I've seen this before from Tyrie. Some time ago, upon her request, I prepared a presentation on Bitcoin. Five minutes in, I was expounding on the hyperinflation of African beads in the 16th century and the subsequent transatlantic slave trade; she was in a dark place, asleep. I adjusted the window for a breath of fresh air, to which she peeled open, and I plundered on. Five more minutes later, touching on the importance of self-custody, her chin was against her bosom, and her inhalations sounded like an old boot dragging its heels backwards on wet wood. I clapped and shouted, 'Let's download a Bitcoin wallet for you!' I sent her a handful of bitter satoshis, which concluded the lesson. She has not reimbursed or paid me for the lesson. Great business, Sterling! Pater would be proud of your magic internet money, which disappears rather well from my wallet whenever I am at these meetups. Should have stuck to the family business, Sterling! I can hear my mother yakking. Nevertheless. Back at our do, I bring up worthwhile books to read and mention Atlas Shrugged as a devastatingly good one. Frizale confesses that she no longer reads books, preferring to read X; crossing her legs a beam of heat is released from the momentary gap between her thighs, under her sporting white dress, and with that an epigenetic charge raises my temperature. I look to my right; Tyrie is a foregone conclusion. It is Frizale and I in the goldilocks zone. What is this woman here for? I sip my Chardonnay under beads of sweat and call the butler over and order nothing more. He nods as if he knows nothing. Frizale continues talking politics, mostly DOGE (the agency, not the coin), uncrosses her legs, and the beam strikes again. Blasted! My only option out of this is to wake the bull, Tyrie, so I shriek out the corner of my mouth into her left ear and she comes to, hauling her face off the table uncloaking in mid drool about her dream of a cat crawling on her legs. I glance at Frizale, looking for her reason, but the mascara is a shield to her soul, and, she has gone full beam, wide open, under the table. Think quick, Sterling! Your two satoshis are on the boil. Satoshis! I slide my right hand into the pant pocket while I overemphasise to Tyrie, "That's crazy, bro," as she slogs on about the cat, which provides a brief shift from Frizale, and then I punch in my pin and zap! My Chardonnay sats hit Frizale's LNURL. She snaps her legs closed to the hint of vibration and digs in her purse. The butler winks at me, I'm a regular. I hear Tyrie say she reckons the cat was her recently deceased brother waving goodbye as I, too, am walking away; I dare not look back. Frizale squeals in enjoyment about the zap. My temperature has dropped and my stack is in tact. As I exit the meetup, I send gratitude to the Lightning Network.