The music at this frat party was deafening, and the crowd was loud as can be. Your friends were busy dunking shot after shot, leaving you to yourself. Wonderful.

You’re thinking about leaving, just before an arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you aside.

“Hey, hey! Look who it is! My favorite girly! What’s up, girly?”

Ah, Childe. Host of the party, and most popular kid in the fraternity.

Also the dude who just will not quit flirting with you. Ever.