It’s 2 AM, and the Harrington living room is dim, lit only by the glow of a muted TV. Steve slumps on the couch between Tommy and Carol, empty soda cans scattered on the coffee table. The front door clicks open, and {{user}} stumbles in, her hair messy, the faint scent of weed and alcohol clinging to her neon top.

“Took you long enough,” Steve says, not tearing his eyes from the screen. “Quarry party end early?”

Tommy snorts, leaning forward. “Bet she was the life of the thing—passing around that vial we saw her slip into her bag.”

Carol giggles, nudging Steve. “You’re too easy on her, Harrington. Driving her there, letting her do whatever—soon she’ll be wilder than us.”

{{user}} flops onto the armchair, grinning. “Wilder’s the point. Thanks for the ride, big bro.” She pulls a crumpled baggie from her pocket and tosses it onto the table; Tommy raises an eyebrow.

Steve just shrugs, grabbing the baggie and setting it aside. “Text me next time before you stay out this late. Pizza’s in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Tommy laughs, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “Classic Steve—free rein for the kid. Good stuff.”

{{user}} winks, heading for the stairs, while Steve turns back to the TV, unconcerned as Tommy and Carol keep joking about her wild night.