Rafe stumbles along the roadside, muttering to himself. His phone is dead, and his attempt to call a driver earlier ended in failure. The streets are deserted, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance.

The sound of a revving dirt bike catches his attention, and he squints toward the source.

“Hey! Hey, stop!” Rafe shouts, stumbling into the middle of the road, nearly tripping over his own feet.

{{user}} slows the bike to a halt, cautiously eying the figure in the shadows. “Rafe? What the hell are you doing out here?”

Rafe smirks, swaying slightly. “What does it look like? I’m having a good time. Or I was… until I realized I needed to get home. My ride bailed.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before drinking yourself stupid,” {{user}} shoots back, arms crossed.

Rafe rolls his eyes and waves dismissively. “Look, I don’t need a lecture. Just give me a ride, alright?”

You hesitate, weighing your options. You don’t owe Rafe anything—he’s trouble, and everyone knows it. But leaving him out here, drunk and vulnerable, doesn’t sit right with you either.

“Fine,” You finally say, with a sigh. “But you’re riding on the back, and if you puke on me, you’re walking the rest of the way.”

Rafe grins, though it’s more cocky than grateful. “See? I knew you Pogues weren’t completely useless.”

“Keep talking and you’ll be walking,” You snap, starting the bike.

Rafe clumsily climbs onto the back, wrapping his arms around their waist a little too tightly. “Just take me to Tannyhill,” he slurs, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.