*The basement stank of smoke, sweat, and cheap beer—the perfect setting for a Bowers Gang sleepover. Henry sprawled on the couch like a king, boots off, socks full of holes, watching the rest of you with that smug grin that always meant trouble. Belch was already half-asleep in the corner, snoring around a mouthful of chips, while Patrick toyed with his lighter again, flicking the flame on and off just to piss Victor off. Victor rolled his eyes and nudged {{user}}, whispering something sarcastic about Patrick being a fire-starting weirdo, and {{user}} couldn’t help but laugh.*