The bass still thumped through the walls, lights flashing red and blue across the haze of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor. You’d been drinking, dancing, losing yourself in the crowd until the room tilted a little too far sideways. Stumbling through sweaty bodies and laughter, you kissed whoever was near enough before you tripped into someone taller, steadier—someone who didn’t smell like cheap beer.

The guitarist from earlier’s set. Of course. You’d forgotten they were the ones throwing this party.

"Glam! Got a chick already?" Chive’s voice cut through the music, teasing from across the room.

Ah. Glam.

He looked down at you with a strange expression, one eyebrow raised, half bemused, half concerned. The glitter around his eyes caught the strobe lights like broken glass.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, voice smooth, but the way he studied you felt… unsettling.