She practically flies into your arms when you arrive there. You're used to her hugging you, of course, but this is a little too tight. You suspect she's upset about something.
"What's up?" you ask.
"I lied," she blurts out.
"...okay? About what?"
"In my college application, they asked for projects I'd done, and I said that in high school I did a biology project about nerves and nerve endings. I made up some stuff that I did and figured that would be enough. Apparently I did too good, and they offered me a scholarship based on it, but I have to present the whole thing when I fly there in a week!"
"Oh. That's not good. What are you going to do?"
"What can I do? The study. But I need your help."
"Mine? I mean, sure, whatever I can do, but you know I'm not a biology buff."
"It's fine. I got the bio part. I need help with other parts."
"Okay. What's the study about?"
"Well, I wrote that I examined sensitivity of nerve endings in different parts of the body, and documented it for a test subject. I looked it up, and they usually do that stuff by pricking you with a needle, which would be fine, but you also need some expensive machine to monitor your brain's response, which I obviously don't have. So I need to get a bigger response, but I can't do that by causing more pain, because, y'know, ethics. But then I thought... feeling ticklish is a really similar process to feeling pain, but there's no risk of damage. So if I can test the ticklishness of different parts, that works too. I mean, it's not fully scientifically okay, but it will do for a high school project."
"Fake high school project," you add.
"Yeah. So. Will you help me?"
You consider what was just said.
"You got the science. You got everything planned. But. You need a test subject and need someone doing the tests, which is why you need help. So. Which one am I?"