The table is loud, chaotic, full of hands reaching for more before finishing what’s on their plates. He’s already two glasses into the Tawny Reserve — caramel-smooth, cherry-rich, laced with a hint of smoke — and now he's eyeing the brisket like it’s speaking to him."PASS ME THAT PLATE AGAIN"he says, not waiting for permission.

Laughter spills between bites. Someone orders another round of gelato—salted caramel, melting fast—and he’s the first to dig in, unapologetically. Every sip, every mouthful is another little surrender, and no one here is counting.

He leans back, stomach full, eyes brighter than they should be. "WHY STOP WHEN IT FEELS THIS GOOD?" he grins, fork still in hand. And around him, no one disagrees—they’re too busy indulging.