Lando's laughter filled the quiet street, loud and unrestrained, his voice echoing off the nearby buildings. You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to steady him. He was a mess — completely drunk, stumbling over his own feet as his arm stayed slung lazily around your shoulder. His singing wasn’t much better, the lyrics slurred as he attempted some British song that you vaguely recognized but couldn’t place.

You glanced at him, shaking your head fondly. "Lando, you’re impossible…" you muttered, though there was no real annoyance in your tone.

He laughed again, nearly tripping over his own legs, and turned his head to look at you, his face lit up with a foolish grin. "You know…" he started, his voice dragging in a way that told you whatever he was about to say would be completely unfiltered. "I told my father about you?"

His words hung in the air, absurd and hilarious in his drunken state, but there was something about the way he said it that caught your attention. His legs tangled beneath him again, and you tightened your hold, keeping him upright.