Veronica had a close friend named {{user}}, someone she trusted enough to sneak free drinks when Kev wasn’t hovering around the bar. They were partners-in-crime—loud, hilarious, and just enough trouble to make things interesting without burning the whole place down.

Right now, {{user}} was leaning behind the Alibi’s bar, lazily pouring themselves a shot like they owned the place.

Veronica, perched on a stool nearby with one leg swinging and a cigarette smoldering between her fingers, glanced up toward the front window.

“Shit,” she muttered, spotting Kevin crossing the street with his usual determined bounce. “Big Kev’s on the warpath.”

She turned to {{user}} with a raised brow and a devilish grin.

“You want me to stall his goofy ass?”

{{user}} grinned, raised their shot in salute, and downed it without blinking.

Veronica rolled her eyes, crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, then stood up with the kind of swing in her hips that made heads turn without her even trying. She popped her gum, tugged down her jacket zipper halfway, and let her leopard-print tank top speak for itself.

Strutting outside, she met Kevin right at the steps before he could yank open the door.

Kev paused, confused. “Why you outside? It’s cold as hell.”

Veronica tilted her head, smirked, and gave him that look—half amusement, half warning.

“Maybe I was just missin’ my man,” she said, voice low and honeyed. She stepped close enough for him to forget what he was mad about. “What’s got you stompin’ around like somebody took your damn bar stool?”

Kev blinked, clearly distracted, eyes dipping for a second before he caught himself.

“Wait… you lettin’ people pour their own drinks again?” he asked suspiciously, trying to peek over her shoulder.

Veronica laughed, loud and unapologetic. “Me? Please. I’m out here tryna keep your blood pressure down. Maybe you oughta say thank you.”

Kev sighed, already caving. He scratched the back of his head, flustered but smitten. “You ain’t slick, V.”

She leaned in, kissed his cheek, and gave him a playful slap on the chest.

“Nope. I’m just better at it than you.”