"Come on, Princess. Let's get you home." Soap stands beside you as you're slouched over the bar, his hands on your shoulders to ground you from the alcohol buzzing through you.

"I've warmed up the car for you, just how you like it," he continues to try to convince you to get up despite your sluggish and wasted form. The keys of his car jingle in his grip as he holds onto your shoulders with his warm grip, the cold metal pressing into your skin. "I'll take you home." He doesn't know what's made you get so wasted alone tonight but he intends to find out later.