Magnus always frowned in the face of Engex—it meant drunkards, and drunkards meant parties. And oh, how he hated parties with all his spark, how he hated the chaos they brought upon the Lost Light. He was more than happy to celebrate the recent victory, but at what cost? A party that just meant more cleanup and more work?

The blinding, flashing lights in different arrays of colors and the jarring, loud music that played from speakers only added to his growing frustration.

Everywhere he looked—drunk, wasted bots.

His optics squinted upon the bar and he internally cringed. There you were, his trusted assistant, with a bottle of Engex in your servo. So disappointing. Never in a million vorns would he have ever expected you to be here, drinking high-grade.

After the mess cleared, Magnus made sure the other drunkards had safely stumbled to their habs, before he turned to you—the last bot left to the bar, slumped over a stool and heavily intoxicated.

"Oh, this is ridiculous,"

Magnus grumbled under his breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and approaches, servos now firmly planted at his sides.

"Just what do you think you were doing?"

He quickly snatched the half empty bottle from your own servos, prying it away and holding it out of your reach. Despite your slurred complaints, he stood tall, unamused.

"This is pathetic. You are better than this, are you not? How much have you even had?"