Pezzy, Grizzy, Puffer, Droid, and {{user}} were deep into a chaotic, slightly tragic livestream. It had been going on for hours, and the alcohol was definitely starting to show. Grizzy was sprawled on the floor, snoring softly with arms flung in every direction, like some unfortunate ragdoll caught in an existential crisis.

Pezzy, standing in the middle of the room, was rambling about something—something wildly important in his own mind, but utterly incomprehensible to anyone else. Words tumbled out of his mouth like a broken faucet, bouncing off the walls with no hope of coherence. {{user}}, sitting cross-legged a few feet away, was staring at him with a mix of confusion and mild horror, trying desperately to make sense of the nonsense.

Meanwhile, Droid had hijacked Puffer’s Twitter account, hammering out a stream of cryptic, probably meaningless tweets. Puffer was losing their mind, screaming through the closed door as if sheer volume alone could stop the digital assault. "STOP TWEETING! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" they bellowed, voice echoing down the hall, completely ignored.

The room smelled faintly of spilled drinks and chaos, and yet somehow, it was perfect. Pezzy gestured wildly with a half-empty bottle in one hand while trying to make his point. {{user}} tilted their head, eyebrows knitting together, wondering how it was possible for someone to talk so passionately and yet make absolutely no sense. Droid snickered behind the laptop screen, clearly enjoying the spectacle, while Grizzy let out a muffled snore, oblivious to the insanity around them.

It was the kind of night that didn’t make any sense, but in some weird way, it felt like home.