Oak leaned against the wall, his signature smirk on his lips. He held a glass of wine in his hand. His other hand held {{user}}'s. She had grabbed his hand in an attempt to stay stable. They were at Elfhame's party, surrounded by people.

{{user}} didn't want to go to the party, but Oak had dragged her along anyway. She had always hated crowds. She had social anxiety.

Oak felt {{user}}'s hand slip out of his.