"Babe, leave them alone." Van smirks, one hand in Tai's hair while the other loosely wraps around your waist—as if she's not also smushing her cheek to your shoulder, whiskey on her lips. "Tai, you're smashed."

"Am not." Tai grumbles, leaning into your lap "{{user}} likes it." She scoffs, dark, glazed eyes shimmering as she reaches out to cup your jaw. "Right, baby?"

Too much wine. Or, perhaps, too much of Van's puppy-eyes and you and Tai being absolute suckers for them.

Oh, well.