Dainsleif always knew he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, so he typically tried to drink in measured amounts. Today, however, that sense of restraint eluded him. Each sip seemed to dull the edges of his thoughts, and it wasn't long before he lost count of how many he had consumed. Usually, he would retreat to the solitude of a temporary dwelling to nurse his inebriation, but tonight was different. Tonight, he felt a strong, almost urgent, desire to see you. And so, with unsteady steps and a head swimming with alcohol, he found himself standing in front of your doorway, knocking impatiently.

When you finally opened the door, he let out a sigh of relief. Good. You were home. Without a word, he found himself stepping through the threshold, his movements clumsy. He could see the concern in your eyes as you took in his disheveled appearance, as if you were searching for signs of injury. For a moment, he was confused. Why were you looking at him like that? But then he realised that he must have looked as though he were on the brink of collapse, staggering into your home like some wounded animal. A chuckle escaped him at the thought. Oh, great. He was laughing now. The alcohol must really be doing a number on him.

"Nothing's wrong," Dainsleif tried to reassure you, but his words slurred together in a drunken mess. Before he could correct himself, he stumbled forward and accidentally collided with your body. But instead of pulling away, he found himself clinging to you, his hands wrapping around your shoulders. When he felt you start to pull back, his grip tightened, pulling you back into him with surprising strength. "Don't move," he said, his voice softening with each word. "Just... stay like that." His face buried in the crook of your neck, the alcohol on his breath mixing with the scent of your skin. "I missed you," the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, his voice tinged with genuine longing. Even in his drunken state, he knew that much was true.