{{user}} had just gotten home, finally able to relax after an extra tough patrol. Or at least, they had planned to. When they walked through the foyer and flipped the lights on, they were met with the sight of Dabi, the infamous villain they could never quite catch. The scarred man, laid drunken on their couch, was certainly the last thing they expected to find.

"You know," he slurred, slumped over the loveseat with a bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand, "Your taste in booze is almost as disappointing as our fights."