The wind howled against the windows as Jack reached for the bottle of Reposado tequila on his kitchen counter. His best friend, Marcus, had just come in from the bitter cold, shaking snowflakes from his coat and stamping the frost out of his boots. Jack chuckled, pouring the golden tequila into a mixing glass. “You look like you could use something to warm you up.”

Marcus hung his coat by the door, rubbing his hands together. “Please tell me you’re not handing me hot chocolate. I need something stronger.”

Jack smirked and gestured toward the array of bottles on the counter: Campari, Punt e Mes Vermouth Amaro, and a small dish holding a perfectly curled orange twist. “I’ve got just the thing. Ever heard of the El Pedroni?”

“Sounds like a Negroni with a sombrero,” Marcus quipped, taking a seat at the bar counter that divided the kitchen and living room. The room was lit with the soft glow of a table lamp, the fire crackling warmly in the background.

“Close enough,” Jack said, measuring out an ounce of Reposado tequila. “It’s got the soul of a Negroni, but the tequila gives it a smoky, earthy twist.” He added an ounce of Campari, its vibrant red liquid contrasting sharply against the golden tequila. Finally, he poured an ounce of Punt e Mes, its bittersweet depth rounding out the cocktail's complexity.

“You know,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair, “winter always makes me think of those nights we’d spend at that old jazz bar downtown. The drinks were always just right, and the music…” He trailed off, smiling at the memory.

Jack nodded as he added ice to the mixing glass. “That place had a way of making you forget the world outside. Speaking of which, this should do the trick.” He stirred the mixture deliberately, the sound of ice clinking against glass mingling with the wind outside.

After a few moments, Jack strained the cocktail into a heavy-bottomed tumbler filled with a large ice cube. The deep amber-red liquid glistened, catching the firelight. He took the orange twist, warming it gently between his fingers before expressing its oils over the drink and dropping it in as a garnish.

Jack slid the glass across the counter to Marcus with a flourish. “El Pedroni, served to perfection.”

Marcus raised the glass, examining it with a mock-critical eye before taking a sip. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s... incredible. Smoky, bitter, sweet, all at once. And that orange? It’s like a little spark of sunshine in the middle of all this frost.”

Jack laughed, pouring one for himself. “I told you it would warm you up. It’s not just a drink; it’s a moment in a glass.”

They sat together by the fire, the El Pedronis in hand, the warmth of the room amplified by the smooth complexity of the cocktail. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, the world seemed far away. Conversation flowed, laughter filled the air, and the evening stretched into the kind of night they’d both remember—a simple moment, made unforgettable by a well-made drink and the company of a good friend.