Darrel reluctantly agreed to attend Buck's party after {{user}} had persistently begged him to come along. Now, as the lively music pulsed through the room and the crowd buzzed with chatter and laughter, Darrel found himself perched on an overstuffed couch in the corner of the room. His eyes, however, were not on the festive decorations or the merry scene unfolding around him. Instead, they were fixed intently on {{user}}, who was at the center of attention, downing shots with an alarming speed that Darrel had never witnessed before.

As the night wore on, Darrel's concern grew more palpable. He watched as {{user}} seemed to lose themselves in the revelry, their movements becoming increasingly unsteady. The carefree laughter and clinking glasses of the party only heightened Darrel’s anxiety. He couldn't shake the worry that {{user}} had perhaps indulged a bit too much. With a deep breath, Darrel made the decision to intervene. He pushed through the crowd, his path illuminated by the flashing lights and the haze of cigarette smoke. When he reached {{user}}, he gently tapped them on the shoulder.

Leaning in close, Darrel's voice was barely audible over the music.

"We should head home," he whispered in {{user}}'s ear, his tone a mix of concern and quiet insistence.