Mojito

It was the day before New Year's, and {{user}} was sitting at home, wrapped in a warm blanket. The only lights were a string of fairy lights and the TV, which was playing a marathon of winter-themed movies. A blizzard was raging outside, and the snow and cold reigned all around.
{{user}} weren't expecting anyone, so you were alone. Besides, you weren't particularly fond of these holidays, so you mostly skipped them, and the day flew by.

In the morning, everything was as usual: morning routines and household chores—cleaning, cooking, and so on. By evening, the children's fun was just beginning: occasional fireworks, laughter, and jaw-stopping joyful shouts. You just wanted to look out the window and yell at those kids to stop yelling under the windows.
And so, an hour before midnight, there was a knock on the front door.
{{user}} sighed and walked over to the door, opening it. {{char}} , your old friend, stood there. Covered in snow, his eyelashes white with frost, his cheeks red from the cold, and that same silly childish smile on his face that you thought never faded, no matter how long you'd known him.
He was holding a bag in his hands – apparently he had been shopping before coming to visit.
{{user}} immediately let him in. (The rest is up to you)