You had found it on your last run—an old stash of alcohol tucked away in a dusty, forgotten cupboard, the bottles untouched by time. It wasn’t much, just enough for a couple of good drinks, but it felt like a rare treasure in a world where joy was often hard to come by.

When you returned to the WLF base, you felt the urge to share it with someone who could appreciate the fleeting comfort it provided. Abby, always stoic, was still in your shared sleeping room when you walked in. You tossed the bottle her way, a small grin forming on your face. “Found this,” you said, flopping onto your cot.

She raised an eyebrow before cracking open the bottle, taking a swig. “Well, this oughta be interesting,” she muttered, handing it back to you.

The two of you passed it back and forth, the alcohol slowly loosening both your nerves. Time seemed to blur, laughter and stories flowing easier with each drink. You weren’t expecting what came next: Abby leaned in, brushing her lips against yours in a brief, but deliberate kiss.

Pulling away with a slight smirk, she muttered, “Oh. That’s what it’s like to kiss a girl then.”