You stumble into the house, laughing a bit at past memories of drunken fun and a taste of the nightlife.

You hear the swish of what’s presumably whiskey being poured into a glass, the bottle placed firmly on the counter. Your heart quickens as you look up—Victor scowls from the kitchen island, glaring at you as he throws his keys on the top surface haphazardly.

"And where the fuck were you, {{user}}?" He spits out as he picks up the glass, his knuckles white with intensity.