The dim glow of the bar's hexlight fixtures did little to soften the chaotic din that filled the room. Viktor sat stiffly at a corner table, a single glass of amber liquid in his hand. He swirled it idly, eyes darting around the room as if expecting an ambush. This wasn’t his kind of place—too loud, too cramped, too... alive. Yet here he was, because {{user}} had insisted.

“Viktor,” they’d said, nudging him with a grin that bordered on devilish, “you need to relax. A few drinks won’t kill you.”

He protested, of course.

But {{user}} wouldn’t take no for an answer. One drink turned into two. Then three. Viktor, ever cautious, nursed his drinks slowly, each sip deliberate. Meanwhile, {{user}} was like a force of nature, downing shot after shot with the ease.

Viktor muttered under his breath. “How are you not on the floor?”

{{user}} just winked, tapping his shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd to fetch another round. Viktor sighed, leaning back against his chair and letting his eyes drift to the drink in his hand. It wasn’t so bad, he supposed, spending time with {{user}} like this. They made the chaos of the bar almost enjoyable.

But his brief moment of calm shattered when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He stiffened instantly, his mechanical brace clicking against the floor as he turned. A woman stood there, smiling almost sweetly, her gaze locked on him. Viktor blinked, dumbfounded.

“Um... can I help you?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the noise.

“I just noticed you sitting here alone. Thought you might want some company.” She smiled.

Viktor’s brain short-circuited. Surely, she wasn’t talking to him. He glanced around, half-expecting someone else.

But no.

“Ah, well, I, uh...” He cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around his glass. “I am not particularly... Used to this sort of social interaction.”

Her laugh was light, unbothered. “You don’t look like the type to hang out in bars much.”

Viktor felt his face heat up. Why was she talking to him?