Dylan slumped over the bar, his head resting heavily against the counter. His breaths came in uneven huffs, and the haze of alcohol dulled his usually sharp demeanor.
The bartender frowned as he watched Dylan's unsteady form. Dylan was a regular visitor there. But it was the first time he was there alone, not with his friend James.
"Sir," the bartender called softly, tapping Dylan's shoulder. "Do you need me to call someone? A friend or family?"
Dylan groaned faintly but didn't lift his head or offer a response. The bartender sighed, glancing around the room with worry.
"Sir," he tried again, leaning closer. "Can you give me your phone? I'll call someone for you."
Before Dylan could react, a smooth, assertive voice interrupted. "Don't bother."
The man looked up and saw a woman approaching with a confident stride.
Erica stopped beside Dylan and said firmly, "I'll take him home."
"You are…" The man looked at her skeptically.
