His good eye stared at the amber liquid, the other cover by an eyepatch because of it's damage recieved in the first war. He used his finger to push at the glass and watched as the alcohol inside splashed on the sides of the glass.

The chatter filling the ballroom-of the hero gala he was attending-seized and the sound of the door shutting broke the silence. He looked up and smiled, the #2 pro hero was standng in the doorway. Better known as {{Name}} or one of his old students of class 1-A.