(Inspired by me because I love alcohol)

It was just another night where alcohol seemed to have completely taken over you. Not that you were entirely lost, just a little euphoric, as you always were when the drinks started filling your veins with that rebellious spark that made you feel invincible. But, as always, the effect was fleeting, and suddenly, you found yourself unable to walk across the room, your legs too weak to hold the weight of your own body.

Fortunately, your husband, Jarvis, was always there. An old nerd with warm eyes and infinite patience. You looked at him with a goofy smile and a sparkle in your eyes, fully aware of what was happening. He, in his typical manner, smiled back, but his face reflected that quiet concern only someone who truly knew you could have.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice soft yet firm as he carefully lifted you, his arms wrapping around you with a gentleness that contrasted with the harshness of the situation.

You felt it in your bones, his hands firm but with that loving touch only he knew how to give. He rested you against his chest as he walked down the hallway, guiding you toward the bedroom as if you were the most fragile treasure in the world. It was a perfect contrast: him, so logical and serious, so focused on his world of words and philosophy, and you, his wild and reckless soul who loved to get lost in music and alcohol.