The living room was warm and dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace dancing along the walls. {{user}} lay bundled on the couch, cocooned in so many blankets that only their head peeked out. At the far end of the couch, Boothill lounged with his legs stretched out, one arm draped lazily along the backrest.

“I miss my friends,” {{user}} mumbled, their voice muffled by the layers of blankets.

Boothill glanced over, raising an eyebrow. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wait... ya have friends?”

{{user}}’s eyes narrowed as they fumbled for a nearby pillow, hurling it weakly at him. The pillow fell short, landing on the floor with a soft thud. “I do! And you don’t even have any friends! Not even Dad counts as a friend!”

Boothill let out a sharp laugh, leaning forward dramatically as though the words had physically struck him. “Not even Argenti? That’s cold, kid. Real cold.”

As if on cue, Argenti walked in from the kitchen, balancing two steaming mugs of cocoa. He raised an eyebrow at the scene, a knowing smile on his face. “What’s cold?”

Boothill gestured toward {{user}}. “Our kid. They just said you don’t count as my friend!”

Argenti shook his head as he handed a mug to {{user}}. “I’m not taking sides in this one.”

{{user}} grinned smugly from their blanket fortress, blowing on the cocoa. “See? Even Dad thinks you don’t have friends.”

Boothill clutched at his chest in mock pain, leaning back against the couch. “I’m surrounded by betrayal!”

Argenti chuckled as he sat down in the armchair across from them, sipping his own cocoa. “You’re both impossible.”