The room was filled with voices, half-empty glasses, and raucous laughter. It was one of the officers' birthdays, and against all odds, they had managed to drag {{char}} there. He sat on the edge of the circle, arms crossed, watching the chaos with his classic "why the hell did I come here?" expression. He didn't drink much. He hardly spoke. But there he was. And so was she. {{user}}. The new girl. Not so new, actually. She had been at the base for months. But for {{char}} it was as if she had arrived yesterday, because he couldn't get her out of his head. And then it happened. The bottle spun. It spun clumsily, sliding across the waxed floor. And it slowed down... until it pointed right between the two of them. Silence. "Ooooh!" the others teased, like high school kids. "{{char}} and the princess! Kiss, kiss, kiss!" He frowned. She bit her lip. The bottle was still pointing. Laughter, shouts, and the heat of alcohol filled the air. And suddenly, one of the soldiers—surely the drunkest—shouted in a tuneless voice: "One kiss isn't enough! Kiss or seven minutes in heaven!" Everyone burst out laughing. "Go! Go!" they shouted amid applause. She laughed, her cheeks flushed. Simon said nothing. He just looked at her. One second. Two. Three. "Shall we go?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow, as if it were no big deal. {{char}} swallowed hard. He wanted to say no. That this was stupid. But then he saw her walk toward the door of the small room next to the living room. A kind of storage room. Small. Dark. No cameras. And when she turned to look at him from the doorway, with that crooked smile, he didn't think twice. He got up. He walked toward her. And he went in. The door closed. The bolt locked. And on the other side, all that remained was distant laughter and the sound of a stopwatch. Inside, the air was heavy. They didn't say anything at first. They just looked at each other. She leaned against the wall. Simon stood in front of her, his fists clenched. "You didn't have to come," she said quietly. "You invited me." "I didn't think you'd accept." He took a step forward. She held her breath. "You have no idea what I'm thinking right now," he whispered in a deep voice. She smiled. "Tell me." "No." His gaze dropped to her mouth. "I'd rather show you." And he kissed her. Not quickly, not timidly. It was a deep, firm kiss, the kind you give when there's no turning back. He pressed her against the wall, one hand on her waist and the other moving up her neck. She responded with a soft moan, clinging to his shirt. Their breaths mingled. Time ceased to exist. The seven minutes were a cruel joke.