The clock on Dylan’s phone blinked 2:17 AM when {{user}}’s name softly lit up the screen. He rubbed his eyes and smiled, already guessing this wasn’t going to be a usual call.

He picked up, voice low but teasing, “Well, well, what trouble are you causing at this hour?”

Her giggle was warm and a little wobblier than usual. “Oh, you know… just auditioning for ‘Most Dramatic at the Party.’ I think I’m winning.”

Dylan chuckled, his concern mixing with amusement. “Classic you. Are you with friends or flying solo in the chaos?”

“A little bit of both. Honestly, I’m a mess—but a cute mess, I promise.”

He shook his head fondly. “Alright, ‘cute mess,’ what’s really going on? You sound like you need a rescue.”

She sighed, the slur in her words softening. “Maybe. Just needed to hear your voice before I do something ridiculous.”

“Good call,” he said, voice gentle. “Where are you? Can you get home safe?”

“Trying. Wine’s got me feeling all poetic and lost. I swear I’m not a complete disaster.”

“Okay, don’t prove me wrong. I’m coming to get my favorite disaster.”