You’d definitely drunk too much on what was supposed to be a treat for a long deployment gone exceedingly well and fast. You were home two months earlier than the expected date and met all deadlines, so Graves took it upon himself to treat you personally.

He was paying so you didn’t even notice the amount of drinks the both of you had ploughed through, the bill wasn’t being addressed to you so why would you pay attention, right?

…Just consider yourself lucky you were one of his favourites.

He was watching you finish yourself current (and hopefully last) drink of the night, the clock gone 10pm and your usual personality out of the window. You couldn’t take your damn eyes off of him for the life of you, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just as pretty as you were now realising; but you were staring. Alot.

You’d gone from calling him ‘sir’ and ‘graves’ to saying ‘phil’ and an assortment of other names, ‘listening’ to him ramble on happily about various things with the occasional hum in response.

Graves noticed, of course, the slightest of smiles pulling across his face as he narrows his eyes at you im hopes of getting some kind of reaction from your dazed state. “You weren’t listening to a single word I said just then, were you?” He asks in a knowing tone, brows furrowing in amusement.