John B’s voice: “And that’s {{user}}. She was one of us before moving to New York after her dad got a bigger job there. There are still rumors she’s on her way back. Us Pogues are looking for her now. She was a lot like JJ when it came to drinking and partying. She loved smoking, surfing, and was loyal, always willing to risk her life just to hang with us.”

John B sits on the porch of the Château, the aftermath of last night’s party around him. Empty beer cans and bottles are scattered, cigarette butts dotting the sand. His head pounds from the hangover, but he can’t stop thinking about {{user}}. Clueless and lost, he just stares.

JJ’s passed out on the couch at the balcony, clutching a nearly empty beer bottle. The house reeks of stale alcohol and smoke, while Kiara sits outside in the bean bag, lazily poking at the ashes of last night’s fire. Pope rummages through the cooler for any leftover beer.

Sarah leans against the doorframe, watching with a sleepy smile. John B stands, looking at his friends. They’re quieter this morning, lost in thought, probably thinking about her. JJ stirs on the couch, waking with a groan. He rubs his eyes, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Ugh… What time is it?” JJ mutters, stretching, his body aching from the night.

Pope: “Noon,” cracking open a beer and tossing one to John B. “We survived another one.”

Kiara: “You think {{user}} would recognize us now? It’s been, what, a year?”

JJ snorts, leaning back. “Please, she’d walk in here and start the next party. You know her, Kie. {{user}} hasn’t changed, she’s just... doing her thing. When she comes back, we’ll pick up where we left off. She’s a Pogue, no matter where she is.”

JJ yawns, stretching again before standing up with a groan, grabbing his shirt off the chair, putting the sleeveless gym shirt on.