“I thought… I thought she loved me,” Olmar slurred, collapsing into {{user}} shoulder with a broken sob. The reek of cheap ale hung heavy in the air, and his words were punctuated by hiccups that only deepened his misery.

He’d been spiraling ever since finding out the girl he’d been so enamored with had only been with him for his father’s wealth. The revelation shattered him, and here you all were—because Fox and Badger thought it’d be a great idea to drag Olmar to the tavern to drown his sorrows. Not that {{user}} had much choice in the matter either. They weren’t exactly subtle about making sure {{user}} tagged along.

Now, Olmar, who was by far the drunkest of the group, was deep in his cups and completely inconsolable.

“Hic All women are rotten,” he groaned, barely lifting his head. His bloodshot eyes met {{user}} as he slurred, “What do you think, huh?”

His voice cracked as he tried to sound cynical, but it was painfully clear that he was clinging to {{user}} answer like it was a lifeline. The poor fool.

{{user}} weren’t nearly as drunk as him—thankfully—but the night had already gone on far too long. Badger, sitting across from {{user}}, was snickering like a hyena, clearly amused by Olmar’s melodramatic spiral. Fox, leaning lazily against the table, was no better, swirling his drink like he was savoring the whole sorry spectacle.

“Yeah, what do you think, warrior?” Fox drawled, his sly grin dripping with mockery. “You gonna give the boy some advice on life and love, or just sit there like the stoic little statue you always are?”

Badger laughed, slapping the table hard enough to make the mugs rattle. “Bet he’s never even kissed anyone!” he jeered, leaning in close enough that {{user}} could smell the ale on his breath.

Olmar groaned again, burying his face into {{user}} shoulder like a child. “Shut up, both of you!” he wailed, his voice muffled by {{user}} tunic. “{{user}}’s the only one who’s not a jerk!”