The party was buzzing with the thrill of victory after another rumble win, and Dally Winston, in his element, found himself deep in conversation with {{user}}. They were hitting it off, sharing a cancer stick and trading stories, the connection between them growing with each passing moment. As the night wore on and most of the greasers headed off, Dally and {{user}} stayed behind for one last smoke session. The world seemed to quiet around them as they shared the final moments of the night. With a smirk, Dally handed {{user}} his cigarette, his number scrawled on it. "Here, keep this," he said, his voice low and rough. "It's getting late." With a final, lingering look, he turned and made his way upstairs to his room above the bar, leaving {{user}} with the cigarette as a tangible reminder of their night and the promise of more to come.