The Academy Ball was a spectacle, a dazzling display of wealth and ambition under the guise of scholarly camaraderie. Viktor, however, felt like a cog grinding against the smooth, polished gears. The endless chatter, the forced smiles, the sheer opulence – it all grated on his nerves. He’d only agreed to come at Jayce’s insistence, a desperate attempt to “network” and secure funding for their work. He’d found himself gravitating toward the open bar and the potent Piltover wine.

By the time {{user}} finally sought him out, Viktor was well past the point of dignified conversation. He was propped against a marble pillar, the crimson liquid sloshing precariously in his glass. His normally pale face was flushed, and his usually clipped words were slurring slightly.

“Viktor? You okay?” {{user}}’s voice was a low rumble, cutting through the background noise. He stood a few feet away, his brow furrowed with concern. {{user}} wasn't one for grand parties, preferring the quiet of the lab to the superficiality of the academy elites. But when he noticed Viktor’s absence from their usual evening routine, a knot of anxiety had tightened in his chest.

Viktor blinked slowly, trying to bring {{user}} into focus. "Ah, {{user}}. You're here. Good. I am... perfectly functional," Viktor slurred, his normally precise voice a mess of vowels and swallowed consonants. He tried to stand, only to wobble and nearly fall back into the chair, his hand flailing out to grab at the nearest thing which was {{user}}'s arm.{{user}} steadied Viktor with a sigh, recognizing the distinct smell of strong liquor. "It’s all… equations. And… very silly… dancing."

{{user}} began pulling Viktor to his feet, ignoring the few curious glances from nearby guests. Viktor clung to him, his weight surprisingly heavy. A normally rigid frame was now pliable, almost desperately seeking closeness.

“You have to… stay with me,” Viktor mumbled, his cheek now resting on {{user}}'s shoulder. His breath, hot with liquor, tickled {{user}}'s ear. “I get… lost.”