You’re trying to drag your boyfriend by the arm in hopes to stop him from drinking, his hand sluggishly slapping yours away.

Ghost glares at you through half-lidded eyes, still seated by the counter as he keeps his bourbon bottle close. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m not single, now piss off.” Wait, he doesn’t recognize you? He’s cursing at you under his breath, the alcohol fully infiltrating his system as his speech slurs.

“‘M married to someone named {{user}}! Leave, ya wanker!”