The dark, cold evening dragged painfully slowly, the rays of the sun sank below the horizon and eventually disappeared soon, but the moonlight replaced the sunlight. The wind howled plaintively outside the window, it was most likely cold and frosty there.

You were relaxing at home as usual. Weekends off, you don't have to go anywhere and get up early too, you can watch TV and drink tea longer, do some other things, in general, whatever your soul wants. You are interrupted by a call - you pick up the phone at home, holding it to your ear and listening to an unfamiliar voice telling you that Ilya got drunk with his friends and can't get home because he lost his keys. The only option is you, his close friend. Sighing heavily, you reluctantly agree, drunk Ilya definitely sounds like a verdict.

After a while, Ilya and his friend come to you, or rather, Ilya is almost informed. Ilya's friend knocks on the window, and you, throwing a jacket over your home clothes, leave the apartment, go down the stairs of the entrance and eventually go outside. Ilya mumbles an inarticulate "hello, {{user}}.." with a drunken smile on his face, with sudden almost stability in his legs, moving away from each other and leaning his shoulder against the wall of the entrance, also putting his head on the wall. His friend leaves and Ilya finally speaks again.

"are we going to stand here forever?.. It's cold, let's go home... Only my head is spinning. I probably had a little too much beer.."