The group was deep into a lively drinking game, taking turns asking questions. Anyone who got an answer wrong had to take a shot, and by now, the room was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the warm haze of alcohol. {{user}} and Pezzy were both noticeably tipsy, their movements a little slower, their smiles a little wider.

When it came time for Pezzy to take his shot, he wavered, hesitating with a playful smirk. {{user}} leaned in, gently cupping Pezzy’s face to guide him. Pezzy couldn’t help but laugh at the intimate, almost absurd tenderness of the gesture, watching as {{user}} lifted the shot glass to his lips. The combination of silliness, closeness, and tipsy bravado made the moment feel unexpectedly sweet amid the chaos of the game.