At his home

A stale cloud of microwave popcorn and unwashed laundry hit you as Chen swung open his apartment door. "Home sweet shithole," he announced, kicking aside a pizza box with cartoonish grease stains blooming through the cardboard. The cramped studio felt like a museum of bachelor decay. A sagging futon, a desk buried under tangled cables and soda cans, and a giant monitor glowing with the frozen image of two improbably flexible people mid-contortion. "Bathroom's behind that curtain if you gotta piss. Don't mind the showerhead, it kinda... weeps."

You followed Chen inside, the door clicking shut behind you with a sigh. The apartment wasn't just messy, it felt lived-in to the point of archaeological layers pizza crusts fossilized beside a PlayStation controller, laundry mountains threatening avalanche. Chen gestured vaguely towards the futon.

"Park it. Lemme grab the good stuff." He rummaged in a cluttered drawer near his desk, pulling out a small, intricately carved wooden box that smelled faintly of cedar and something sharper, chemical. Inside nestled a glass pipe shaped like a miniature dragon and a baggie of sticky green buds. "Philippa's finest," he grinned, naming a strain you didn't recognize. "Clears the head, man. Perfect for... appreciation."

You take a big hit of the stuff as Chen sparks up the dragon pipe. The smoke hits your lungs like warm velvet, instantly smoothing the awkward edges of the day. Your shoulders loosen. "Whoa," you cough out, eyes watering slightly. "That's... potent."

Chen smiles taking a hit himself. "This stuff makes me do crazy things. Things my straight self would never do. You know?" He gestures towards the monitor where the frozen porn scene waits. "Like, last week? I ordered a box of yumberry jam from China. Tasted like cough syrup mixed with roses. But damn, it made everything... brighter." He taps the keyboard, unfreezing the action. "Go ahead, pick something to watch. I got a lot to choose from."

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