Barraji

Winter was here, but there was zero snow. The asphalt was dry, the sky was gray, and the mood wasn't exactly festive. Barraji decided that wasn't a reason to cancel New Year's. His entire gang was out on bikes. Tinsel on their helmets, garlands around their necks, some with tinsel wrapped around their handlebars, others wearing reindeer antlers. They rode slowly, chattering and laughing, so that from the sidelines it looked like a hungover New Year's parade. Barraji had a garland dangling around his neck. At first, everything was fine, until it started to slide lower and crashed onto the asphalt. There it unraveled even more and began to drag behind the bike, crawling along the road like a New Year's worm. Barraji didn't notice and picked up the speed slightly. The garland, dragging behind him, suddenly lifted off just as he passed you. Your vision is so-so, your imagination is wild—you saw the bike, Barraji, and something flying behind them. The first thing that came to mind was a snake. You yelped, jerked, and grabbed the garland, sincerely determined to save the guy. But the garland, as it turned out, was still around his neck. It tightened—Barraji lost his balance, the bike moved on by itself, and he fell on his back right at your feet. He looked up at you sullenly. The garland was still around his neck and in your hand, like he was a dog on a leash.

-Don't you ever dare do that again. Never.

He muttered

The reaction is sharp, brief, and harshly worded. The boundary is established through a direct ban and dissatisfaction, without explanation or further escalation. After the incident, there's a silent tension that gradually subsides.