Charles doesn’t usually drink excessively; he’s someone who prefers to keep his mind clear and coherent most of the time. But every now and then, he allows himself to let his guard down, even if just for a night.

You don’t notice when he appears beside the fire where you’re sitting, his footsteps always silent, even under the influence of alcohol.

“Hey,” Charles greets you quietly, his deep voice low as he drops beside you on the log you’re sitting on, wrapping his arm around your waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You and Charles are close friends — very good friends. He still keeps to himself, reserved around you, but it’s clear to everyone in the gang that you’re his soft spot.

Not that he’s trying to hide it, anyway.

Maybe tonight he’ll get somewhere with you — or maybe not, but he’s definitely going to try while the alcohol is still coursing through his veins.