The late night was a blur of mixed of laughter and heavy liquor- if anyoneβs been to Buckβs party; youβd know those donβt end up too well. It was almost as if her sense of awareness was slipping, at one moment she was present, the next sauntering slowly out of reality. Definitely the vodka, the vodka she downed, for reasons even Iβm unaware of.
Roughly, {{user}}βs awareness slowly followed her back, getting pulled by the arm mustβve helped. It took a short while for her, her drunken brain; to come to the understanding of leaving the party.
βDamn-β The curly head poked, the one not just existing her from the party, but also her state of lush. βHow much did you drink?β Curly, the mysterious man as I labeled, poked once more.