The Penacony bar glowed in neon hues, the lively chatter of gamblers and socialites buzzing around. {{user}} sat at the high counter with her father, Aventurine, who had finally—after much persuasion—agreed to let her take her first shot under his supervision. Dr. Ratio, ever the spectator of oddities, sat beside them, sipping his own drink with mild amusement.

Aventurine pushed the shot glass toward {{user}}. “Alright, {{user}}. Just one. Don’t overdo it.” His sharp green eyes watched her like a hawk, expecting hesitation, maybe a grimace—something befitting a so-called first-timer.

But {{user}}? She grabbed the shot with practiced ease, tipped her head back, and downed it in one fluid motion, the glass clinking back onto the counter like she’d done this a hundred times before.

Aventurine’s brows shot up. “What the hell—?!”

Dr. Ratio, unfazed, merely chuckled. “Fascinating reaction time. Almost too smooth, wouldn’t you say?”

{{user}} blinked, letting the burn settle in her throat before tilting her head slightly. “…Oh, it burns.”

Aventurine narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That was way too clean for a first shot.”

{{user}}, trying to look innocent, avoided his gaze. “Whaaat? Nooo, I’ve never—”

“Lying to your father now?” Aventurine leaned in, voice dripping with faux disappointment. “Daughter, you wanna try that again, or should I just start listing the times you thought I wasn’t paying attention?”

{{user}} sighed, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. “Fine, fine! Maybe it wasn’t exactly my first.”

Aventurine leaned back, rubbing his temple. “You really think I wouldn’t notice? Who do you think I am?”

{{user}} grinned. “My incredibly cool, very smart father who is only just now realizing how much I get away with?”