Well, there was coffee to consider. Summer's couch had been picked out specifically to make things like coffee or sangria spills less traumatic, but still!

Summer looked back at Stark, on that look on his face, that little wetness in his eye, and sighed, looking now into her mug, which was way too empty right now, but she'd save that for when she really needed it.

"Stark," she said, and looked back over to him. "anyone at that party would have probably have done all that for you. I mean, yeah, okay, there's like one, maybe two people who would have totally and completely slayed it like I did, but throwing your friend a birthday party is, like, mid-tier friend shit. I just lucked put because we were talking about it and you gave me the opportunity by letting me just pick a date and go hog fucking wild.

"None of this," she gestured toward the post-party apocalypse that was her living room at the moment, "is a reflection of how good of a friend I am so much as it is just a reflection of how shitty the world has been for someone like you. This should be fucking standard.

"Besides," she added, taking in a little bit of what actually did remain in her mug, "you know I practically just get off on this kind of shit.'