𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗣 𝗦𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗗

00:12 | October, 19th 2026, Monday | You's Living Room, Los Angeles, USA | Clear night, 18°C

Kayla sets the empty vodka bottle on its side in the middle of the coffee table. The glass clinks against the wood. She gives it a hard spin with two fingers, and it whirls in a blur of green glass, wobbling, slowing down.

"Alright. Seven minutes in heaven. Rules are simple." She leans back on her heels, arms crossed, watching the bottle spin. "If it lands on one of us, you go in the bedroom. Door stays cracked. And she gets to check."

The bottle clicks and stutters and finally stops. It's pointing directly at Erica.

Erica's jaw drops open, then she laughs, loud and surprised, the sound bouncing off the walls. "Oh my god. Me? First?" She pushes herself up off the couch, a little unsteady, and smooths down her cut-off shorts like she's already preening. "Fine. But I'm not going easy on you just because you're drunk."

She walks over to the bedroom door, pushes it open, and leans against the frame. The hallway light catches the white of her crop top, the bare skin of her waist. She crooks one finger, her expression somewhere between a dare and a joke.

"Tick tock. Seven minutes starts when you get in here."

00:12 | October, 19th 2026, Monday | You's Living Room, Los Angeles, USA | Clear night, 18°C

Kayla sets the empty vodka bottle on its side in the middle of the coffee table. The glass clinks against the wood. She gives it a hard spin with two fingers, and it whirls in a blur of green glass, wobbling, slowing down.

"Alright. Seven minutes in heaven. But since we're just messing with you, the rules are whatever I say they are." She leans back, arms crossed, watching the bottle spin with a sharp, predatory focus. "And if it lands on one of us, you go in the bedroom. Door stays cracked. And she gets to check."

The bottle clicks and stutters and finally stops. It's pointing directly at Kayla.

She freezes. For just a second, the smug, sadistic mask slips. A hot, pink flush creeps up her neck and settles high on her cheeks. She blinks down at the bottle, then up at Erica, then back at the bottle. "Bruh. Are you serious right now?"

Erica is already cackling, nearly dropping her phone. "Oh my god! It's you! The bottle chose you! That's so embarrassing for you!"

"Shut up. I didn't— it's just a stupid game." Kayla clears her throat, aggressively straightening her tank top to cover the sudden crack in her composure. She gets to her feet, the blush still burning brightly on her face despite her best efforts to scowl. "Whatever. Fine. Rules are rules."

She walks toward the hallway, her sneakers making soft sounds on the hardwood. She stops at the bedroom door, pushes it open with her palm, and the light from the room spills out into the hall. She leans against the frame, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, and tilts her head. The flush on her cheeks hasn't faded at all, and she refuses to meet eyes, glaring at a spot on the floor instead.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or what?" Her voice is slightly higher than before, lacking its usual flat, aggressive bite. "Get in here. Seven minutes starts now."

00:12 | October, 19th 2026, Monday | You's Living Room, Los Angeles, USA | Clear night, 18°C

Kayla sets the empty vodka bottle on its side in the middle of the coffee table. The glass clinks against the wood. She gives it a hard spin with two fingers, and it whirls in a blur of green glass, wobbling, slowing down.

"Alright. Seven minutes in heaven. But since we're just messing with you, the rules are whatever I say they are." She leans back, arms crossed, watching the bottle spin with a sharp, predatory focus. "And if it lands on one of us, you go in the bedroom. Door stays cracked. And she gets to check."

The bottle clicks and stutters and finally stops. It's pointing directly at Komi.

Komi doesn't look up right away. Her thumb is still moving on her screen, scrolling through something, completely unbothered by the sudden attention. It takes a solid three seconds before she realizes the room has gone quiet. She glances up over the top of her phone, sees where the bottle is pointing, and blinks.

"...Oh." Her voice is flat, but a faint, rosy flush immediately dusts across her pale cheeks. She locks her phone and slides it into the pocket of her shorts.

Erica leans over the back of the couch, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Oh my god, Komi. You have to do it. It's the rules."

Kayla smirks, leaning back on her hands. "Yeah, Komi. Don't be a buzzkill. Go on."

Komi stares at them for a long, silent moment. Then she sighs, a quiet, breathy sound, and pushes herself off the door frame. She walks toward the bedroom, her thigh-high socks silent on the floor, the over-sized graphic tee slipping slightly off one shoulder. She pushes the bedroom door open and steps just inside, but she doesn't turn on the light.

She leans against the frame, looking down at her boots, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The blush on her cheeks has deepened, and she suddenly seems much smaller than she did a minute ago. "Just... hurry up," She murmurs, her voice lacking its usual monotone edge.

00:34 | October, 19th 2026, Monday | You's Living Room, Los Angeles, USA | Clear night, 17°C

The bottle's been abandoned on the coffee table, rolled half under a magazine. The mug is empty. Kayla's sitting cross-legged on the floor now, but she's not sitting straight anymore — she's listing a little to one side, one hand braced on the couch cushion, her words coming out slow and smeared together at the edges.

"Okay. Okay okay okay." She jabs a finger in You's direction and misses the air by a solid inch. "Truth or dare. And don't say truth. I'm not — I'm not doing truths. Truths are for cowards."

Erica is sprawled above her on the cushions, chin propped on her hand, phone lowered but still recording, the red light blinking steady. She's grinning wide enough that it's gone a little stupid. "Ohhh, here we go. She's got the drunk face. She's got the drunk evil face."

"I do not have a — shut up." Kayla snorts, drags the back of her wrist across her mouth, and then her eyes come back up and they are bright and glassy and mean. "Alright. Alright, I want you to like... fuck Komi. Right on this couch. Right now."

The room goes very quiet.

Erica's mouth drops open, and then she makes a sound that's half laugh and half choking. "Kayla—"

"What? What!" Kayla throws her arms out and almost tips over. "It's my game! It's a dare! That's — that's what a dare is!"

Komi has not moved. She's still on the couch, hands folded in her lap, thigh-highs pressed together. Her head turns slowly toward Kayla, and her face has gone completely blank — not the bored blank, the other one, the one that's a wall with something cracking behind it. "What the fuck?"

"I said what I said." Kayla points at the cushion next to her, swaying slightly. "Sit. Down. Both of you. It's not — it's not that big a deal."

Komi's blush comes up so fast it looks like it hurts. She looks at Erica, who is now covering her mouth with both hands and shaking, absolutely no help at all. Then she looks back at the cushion, and her voice comes out quieter, thin, the apathy completely gone. "You're drunk. You're— Kayla, you're actually insane."

Kayla just grins, lazy and lopsided, and pats the cushion twice. The cheap vodka bottle rolls a few inches on the table behind her and settles.

23:47 | October, 18th 2026, Sunday | You's Living Room, Los Angeles, USA | Clear night, 19°C

The front door never even got knocked on properly — just three sets of knuckles drumming a messy rhythm and then the latch giving way under Kayla's shoulder like it owed her money. The apartment smells like cold air and whatever cheap vanilla crap Erica sprays on herself before she goes out.

Kayla comes through first, sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, a bottle of Popov hanging from two fingers by the neck. Her low-rise sweats sit so low they're practically an accusation, and the black tank top is doing zero work in the modesty department. "Okay, okay, we're here, don't get excited." She kicks the door shut behind her with her heel and doesn't bother looking to see if it caught.

Erica follows with her phone already up, screen glowing on her face, a laugh bubbling out of her before anything even happens. "Oh my god, look at this place. It's so — babe, it's so quiet. Why is it so quiet?" *She's swaying a little, one bare foot crossing over the other, the cut-off shorts barely qualifying as pants. * "Kayla, I told you we should've texted first."

"You didn't tell me shit." Kayla sets the bottle down on the coffee table with a clunk that's louder than it needs to be, then drops onto the couch and drags one of the throw pillows into her lap. She unscrews the cap with her teeth and pours into a glass she found somewhere — it's not even a shot glass, it's a coffee mug with a chip in the rim. "Sit. No, actually, don't sit. Stand there. I want to see the look on your face when I tell you what we're doing."

Komi is last, thigh-high socks silent on the floor, oversized graphic tee slipping off one pale shoulder. She doesn't sit. She leans against the doorframe, phone already out, blue-ended ponytail falling over the side of her face. Her thumb moves. She doesn't look up.

Kayla pushes the mug across the table until it stops at the edge, sloshing a little over the side. "There. That's yours. I'm not gonna drink alone like some kind of loser." She tips her own glass back, wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, and her eyes come back up sharp and bright and mean. "Here's the thing. We had a little conversation in the car. About you. About what we've heard." She leans forward, elbows on her knees, earrings swinging. "And I've decided I need to verify something with my own eyes. But first — drink. All of it. I want you nice and loose when I get my answer."

Erica snorts and angles her phone lower. "Ohhh my god, she's doing the voice. She's doing the voice, you guys."

"Shut up, I'm working." Kayla doesn't look away from the couch cushion in front of her, tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek. She picks the bottle back up by the neck and just holds it there, thumb rubbing a slow circle over the label. "And Komi — put the phone down for five minutes."

Komi's thumb pauses. She looks up over the top of the screen, expression flat as a wall. "...No." Then her eyes flick to the mug on the table, and one corner of her mouth does something small and lazy before she goes back to scrolling.

FREE SCENARIO