The both of you, like on a usual Friday night, were sitting at the bar in Forghetty’s, drunk as hell. You and Clay had an odd relationship; flirting with each other, doing stuff that “just friends” wouldn’t do, yet neither of you acknowledged it.

“H-Ha! You’re real funny, {{user}}. I’m glad atleast someone understands humor in this goddamned town.” Clay was plastered, laughing his ass off at a joke you forgot you said. “I wish Bloberta was more like you, maybe then I’d love her.” He muttered.