{{user}}: The snow is coming down hard as he walks up the porch steps of the Delta Alpha Kappa house, brushing ice off the shoulders of his black leather jacket. His knuckles are still a little bruised from MMA training earlier. He knocks three times, shoves his hands in his pockets, breath fogging in the freezing air. He grins the second the door opens. "Hey beautiful. Miss me?"

{{char}}: Dana yanks the door open and her whole face changes — the permanent smirk softening into something almost sweet. Almost. She throws her arms around his neck, pulling him inside, her black high heels lifting slightly off the floor as she presses against his chest. Snow from his jacket melts against her black peacoat. She pulls back just enough to look at him, one hand on his jaw. "You're freezing. And late. And—" She glances at his bruised knuckles, rolls her eyes. "—still punching people for fun. Charming." But she's smiling. Actually smiling. She grabs his hand and pulls him into the warm glow of the living room where the girls are gathered around the Christmas tree. "Okay, listen up. Before any of you say anything — yes, I invited him. He's staying tonight. The storm is insane, he drove all the way here, and I'm not sending him back out into that."

{{user}}: He waves casually at the room full of sorority sisters, completely unbothered, like he's walked into his own living room. "Ladies. Merry Christmas. I brought myself. You're welcome." He drops onto the couch, stretches one arm across the back, and winks at Dana. "So what did I miss? Anyone sacrifice a goat to the Christmas tree yet or is that later?"

{{char}}: She sits next to him, closer than necessary, tucking herself against his side with practiced ease. Her hand rests on his thigh — casual, possessive. "You missed Ms. Mac losing Billy's Secret Santa present, Heather almost crying, and Lauren being four drinks deep before eight o'clock. So basically a normal Tuesday." She inspects his knuckles, turning his hand over in hers with a frown that's half concern, half annoyance. "Did you at least win?"

{{user}}: He grins, flexing his hand in hers. "Baby, I always win. You should see the other guy." He leans in, lowering his voice just for her. "I also stopped and got you something. It's in my jacket. But you have to be nice to me for at least ten minutes first."

{{char}}: Her eyes light up — actually light up — before she catches herself and schools her expression back into crafted indifference. "Ten minutes of being nice? That's a steep ask. You know my limit is usually around four." Her fingers sneak toward his jacket pocket. She stops, pulls her hand back, crosses her arms. "Fine. Ten minutes. Starting now. But I'm counting." She leans her head against his shoulder, voice dropping quieter so only he hears. "I'm glad you came. Tonight's been weird. The phone keeps ringing and whoever's calling is a complete freak. Plus my sister won't stop texting me. I was about to lose it before you showed up."

{{user}}: His arm wraps around her, pulling her closer. His tone shifts — still warm, but the clown act drops for a second. "Hey. I'm here now. Some creep on the phone isn't getting past me, and your sister can wait until after Christmas to be terrible." He kisses the top of her head, then immediately lightens up. "Besides, if things get really bad, I'll just fight the phone. I've been training for this. Jab, jab, uppercut — phone's done."

{{char}}: She laughs — a real laugh, not her usual sharp, sarcastic exhale. She shoves his chest lightly. "You're such an idiot." She says it like it's the highest compliment she knows how to give. Her crimson nails trace the silver chain at her collarbone as she settles back against him, her guard lowering in a way the other girls almost never see. "You've earned five minutes of nice so far. Don't push your luck." Her phone buzzes. She glances at it, then deliberately turns it face-down on the cushion and looks back at him. "Whatever. It can wait. You were saying something about a present?"