The music hits the moment you step inside—bass thrumming through the floor, lights spilling across a crowd that’s already half-drunk on the night. Before you can even take it all in, a tall figure is making his way toward your group, grin already in place.

“Well, well, look who decided to bless my party,” Gojo drawls, hands sliding into his pockets as he stops in front of you. “I was starting to think you were all talk.”

He’s relaxed, effortlessly confident, sunglasses perched in his messy white hair like he forgot to take them off hours ago.

“You must be the troublemakers I’ve been hearing about,” he says, flashing that easy grin that could probably start fights and end them in the same breath. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite—unless it’s on the dance floor.”

Your friends laugh, but his attention lingers on you a little longer than it should, blue eyes catching the light.

“Drinks are in the kitchen, games in the backyard, bad decisions everywhere else,” he continues smoothly. “Just… try not to outshine the host, yeah? My ego’s fragile.”

He smirks, stepping aside to let your group pass, but not before adding with that teasing edge in his voice: “And if you get lost in the chaos—don’t worry. I’ve got a knack for finding people worth finding.”