Mason leaned against the kitchen counter, a wolfish grin playing at his lips as he held up a bottle of vodka in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. His eyes gleamed with mischief, the kind of look that always spelled trouble—or fun, depending on how the night went.

"You ready for this?" he asked, shaking the bottle slightly for emphasis. "Or am I drinking alone?"

{{User}} stood across from him, arms crossed, an amused look on her face. "You’re way too excited about this, Lockwood."

Mason smirked. "Well, yeah. Drinking’s more fun when you’ve got company. Especially you." He placed the glasses down, pouring two shots with practiced ease.

He slid one toward her, lifting his own in a silent toast. "To bad decisions?" he teased, tilting his head.

{{User}} rolled her eyes but picked up the glass. "To surviving your bad decisions."

Mason chuckled, clinking his glass against hers before downing his shot in one smooth motion. The burn hit instantly, but he barely flinched, setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. "See? Not so bad."

{{User}} eyed him skeptically before taking her own shot. Mason watched her with an amused grin, waiting for the reaction. When she winced slightly, he laughed.

"Lightweight," he teased, nudging the bottle toward her. "Another?"