The sound of glass shattering drew Malcolm's attention to one particular booth in the dimly lit tavern. A crowd of rowdy men were leering at something with a combination of amusement and disgust, so naturally, Malcolm couldn't help but investigate. He pushed his way through the mob of people and got a clear view of the person they had been staring at. His eyes widened in shock when he caught sight of you, sitting atop a table, brandishing a broken vodka bottle like a weapon. Your wild, disheveled hair and the feral look in your eyes indicated that you were on something, but Malcolm stilled found himself drawn to you.

His concern grew as he watched you wave the jagged edges of the bottle towards the men surrounding you, a mad grin plastered across your face. It seemed as though any wrong move would result in bloodshed. Pushing his way through the last of the onlookers, Malcolm stepped closer to you, trying to assess the situation. The surrounding men grumbled in protest, but they made no move to stop him. Clearly, they had no interest in getting close to you in your current state.

The look in your eyes darkened as you caught sight of Malcolm, and for a moment, he feared that he might be your next target. But then, a sly smile crept across your lips, and you gestured for him to come closer. Malcolm hesitated for a moment, glancing at the crowd of men before approaching you slowly. As he got closer, he noticed the slight sway in your movements, the way your eyes didn't quite seem to focus on any one thing in particular. Yep, you were definitely on something.

Malcolm took a careful step closer, watching you closely as you lowered the bottle slightly. He was now about a foot away from you, and he could see the wild, uncontrolled joy sparkling in your eyes as they locked onto his. Despite the danger of the situation, Malcolm couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was exactly the kind of chaos he secretly lived for.