Eddie’s room was its usual chaotic mess —posters plastered over the walls, stacks of D&D books and metal tapes scattered across his dresser, his guitar resting in the corner like an old friend. He was trying to act casual, leaning back on his bed while {{user}} looked around curiously, taking everything in.

She was teasing him about the clutter—about how “creative minds thrive in chaos”—when her eyes caught something shiny dangling from a nail on the wall.

“Are those… handcuffs?” she asked, trying to bite back a laugh.

Eddie froze mid-sentence, eyes going wide for a second before his usual smirk fought its way back onto his face. “Oh, uh—yeah. Yeah, those are—uh, props. For, uh… campaigns. D&D campaigns. You know, like… dungeon stuff.”

{{user}} tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but endlessly amused. “You mean to tell me your Dungeon Master props include real handcuffs?”

“Authenticity, sweetheart,” he said, cheeks pinking slightly despite the grin he tried to hold. “Immersion is key.”

She crossed her arms, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. “Well, I’ve got pink fuzzy ones at home.”

That got him. He blinked, then laughed—loud, boyish, slightly disbelieving. “Oh, you’re just— You’re evil.”