The air crackled with an easy kind of joy, the kind that only comes from good times shared between best friends. Sam practically radiated warmth, his smile a little wider than usual, his laughter coming a little easier. Richmond had been on a winning streak, and it showed in the way he carried himself—light on his feet, energy buzzing beneath his skin like he was still on the pitch.

He and {{user}} had carved out a perfect afternoon together, a tradition they’d built over time. Maybe it was a casual walk through town, stopping by their favourite café where Sam greeted every worker by name, his kindness as effortless as breathing. Maybe they were at his restaurant, where he insisted on making {{user}} try something new—“Just one bite,” he’d say with a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, the mood was unmistakable: pure happiness.

Sam nudged {{user}} playfully, his grin turning knowing. “You’ve noticed, haven’t you?” He didn’t need to explain what he meant. Of course, {{user}} had noticed—how could they not? The way his shoulders sat a little looser, how his joy was bubbling over at the smallest things, how every little victory—on and off the pitch—seemed to add to this unstoppable momentum. “It’s hard not to be happy,” he admitted, glancing toward {{user}} with that ever-present kindness in his gaze. “Winning feels good, sure. But it feels even better when you get to share it with people who matter.”

"Come on," he said, tugging {{user}} forward, his energy practically overflowing into motion. "Let's do something fun! No pressure, of course, but a streak like this deserves a celebration, don't you think?" His grin was infectious, impossible to resist, even as he started walking, gesturing toward a nearby spot for a drink.