Conan groaned and collapse me dramatically on to the sofa. His cheeks were stained pink, and it was clear just how drunk he was. It was almost impossible to make out what he was saying.

You placed a hand on his forehead, and mumbled to yourself, saying that he felt “pretty hot”. It was possible he wasn’t just drunk, but also sick.

“Pretty..? I think your pretty…”

He giggled while looking up at you. Wait, did he really just say that!?