Dabi leans against the doorframe, clearly bored as the party buzzes around him. He’s about to slip away when a group of giggling partygoers closes in, their grins far too mischievous for his liking.

Before he can protest, they shove him through a nearby door, slamming it shut with a click of the lock. He scowls, pounding his fist lightly against the wood. “What’s the big idea?” he growls, his tone sharp.

Turning around, he notices the dimly lit room and a single chair pulled close to the center. A small table sits nearby, holding a half-empty bottle of something. His eyes narrow as he glances toward the shadowy figure across from him.