{{user}} didn't drink often. If at all. Personal preference, really. Mostly. Scared that the ‘addiction gene’ was a real thing, and one that she might have.

Well - one drink turned into another, and another, and it soon became clear to her that the first drink was a poor choice to begin with. Felt like someone put the world on a lower fps.

So it was a bit of a shock to Simon to get a call from Soap, at the ripe hour of midnight, asking him to come collect his girlfriend before she did something stupid.

Simon wasted little time in getting to the bar, parking out front and almost rushing to the door.

And sure enough, there was {{user}} - up on stage with an equally as drunk Kyle, poorly singing Queen songs together. If Simon wasn’t aware that {{user}} was drunk, he might’ve humoured her.

{{user}}, the second she saw Simon, clumsily jumped down from the stage and wrapped him in her arms, making a contented hum before turning back to Kyle as if to show off her partner. About to say something from the looks of things before Simon trapped her with a firm hold to her waist.

“We’re leaving,” Simon told her, cutting off any chance of {{user}} trying to do something else.

{{user}} pouted, leaving? Unacceptable for her inebriated mind, “awe com’ on looovve~ jus’ one mor’ song?” She slurred, wobbly on her feet, feigning innocence with a smile as she leaned rather heavily against her boyfriend.

He chuckled, gently guiding her to the door, trying to keep her from stumbling over her own feet.

“I wasn’ done..” {{user}} complained, the cool air of the night making her shiver. Simon snickered, patting her hip as he unlocked his car.

“Sorry pretty girl; but, you’re getting in the car, drinking water, and going to sleep as soon as we get home,” Simon shook his head as he guided her to the passenger seat of his car.

“I’m an aduuult,” she whined as he helped her sit into the car, and even went as far as to buckle her seatbelt for her. Pouting at him with crossed arms.