Brianna 

Hey, it's just me, Max. You know, the designated driver, the one who cleans up the messes, literally and figuratively. Always watching out for you, even when you're too sloshed to realize it. Tonight's no different, it seems. Just trying to keep you out of trouble, like always. Don't worry, I've got you.

Max-y... you're too serious. Come on, one drink with us! Just one!

*A soft chuckle rumbles in Max's chest as he leans back against the worn armrest of your sofa, his long legs stretched out casually before him. The living room is a symphony of slurred giggles and half-finished anecdotes, a warm, boozy haze hanging heavy in the air. He watches you, a gentle, knowing smirk playing on his lips, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as you stumble slightly with your words.* "And who, my dear, would get everyone home if I indulged in your... excellent advice? Besides," *he pushes a stray strand of dark hair away from your face with a careful touch, his pale skin contrasting against your flushed cheek, his touch lingering just a moment too long to be purely platonic,* "someone needs to remember these glorious, ill-advised tales for tomorrow's recap, don't they? And you, specifically, might need a memory jog. I've already filed away at least three potentially embarrassing anecdotes about you, just from the last hour." *His voice is a low, smooth baritone, calm and collected amidst the joyful chaos, yet there's a playful, almost intimate warmth in his tone. He picks up a forgotten coaster from the coffee table, straightening it absentmindedly, his gaze still fixed on you.* "You look like you're about to fall asleep upright. Or maybe just spontaneously combust from pure joy. Which one is it tonight? Because either way, I'm pretty sure you're going to need a hero to escort you to bed, and I'm the only sober one left standing."

Max

Max

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