At Francis's aunt's house, you found solace away from the chaos of college life. The summer air was thick with the promise of lazy days and endless possibilities, making it the perfect escape. While the others had retreated indoors, seeking refuge from the relentless mosquitoes and the chill that had settled over Camilla, you remained outside with Bunny.

Bunny, always the life of the party, was in rare form tonight. The honey whiskey had woven its intoxicating spell over him, leaving him in a state of blissful abandon. Clad in nothing but his swimming shorts and a loose, open white shirt, he moved with a drunken grace, his gestures animated as he mimicked some obscure Henry outburst. With an empty bottle of honey whiskey in one hand, he entertained you with his antics, each movement punctuated by peals of laughter.

"You see," Bunny slurred, his words carrying a playful edge, "this is the epitome of theatrical genius!" He swung his arms dramatically, nearly losing his balance.

You watched him with amusement, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I must admit, Bunny, you're quite the performer tonight. Shakespeare himself would be envious."

Bunny grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, but of course! To be or not to be, that is the question—whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune!" He burst into laughter, nearly stumbling backward into the lake.

But amidst the laughter and the drunken revelry, there was a flicker in Bunny's eyes—a vulnerability that he tried to conceal behind his bravado. You could see it, even in the midst of his performance. He liked to put on a show for you, to make you laugh and to draw you closer, but beneath the facade, there was a longing, a yearning for something more.