You were no stranger to parties, but this one was getting to you. The noise, the heat, the stench of alcohol clinging to everything, it was a lot. You stumble your way to the bathroom, desperate for a breather. The second you shut the door behind you, the smell hits—alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“Can’t you tell when someone’s in here?” Scara mutters, taking a drag as he sits on the closed toilet lid, one leg crossed over the other like he owns the place. Great.