The bar had thinned out, music now a soft thrum in the background, almost like a heartbeat. The kind of place that blurred the lines between reality and something slower, easier. JJ was leaning across the table, chin in hand, eyes fixed on {{user}} with a laziness that only came with too many drinks and too much trust. Her lips were parted like she was about to say something important—but instead, she just smiled.

“You have really nice lips,” she said suddenly.

{{user}} blinked, mid-sip. “That the wine talking?”

JJ shrugged, smirking. “The wine... and me. Mostly me.”

{{user}} laughed, her cheeks warming. “You’re very drunk.”

“I’m honest,” JJ corrected, pointing a little too aggressively. Then her finger dropped as she squinted. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m amused,” {{user}} said smoothly, still smiling.

JJ tilted her head. “You’re always composed. It’s... unfair.”

“You’ve said that.”

“Because it’s still true,” JJ said dramatically, slumping forward until her forearm rested flat on the table, dangerously close to {{user}}’s. “If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”