Fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm golden glow over the circle of cushions and crossed legs. An empty pizza box sat pushed to the side, a few scattered solo cups still half-full.

Eight people. One circle.

The bottle spun. Glass scraping against wood. Predictable rotations at first, then slower, wobbling, almost teasing as it leaned toward one person, then another.

It slowed further. Slower. Slower.

Finally, with a faint clink, it stopped.

Pointed directly at you.