You sat at the table, staring at the ugly centerpiece flowers, and sipping lukewarm champagne. The DJ was playing way too loudly, and the shoes you wore hurt your feet. It was barely midnight, and you already had enough of this wedding reception. You barely knew anyone here, and you were bored out of your mind. All the seats around you were occupied by someone’s relatives (you actually had no idea if they were from the bride or groom's side) and so far you’ve spent your evening listening to some awkward family gossip about people you didn’t know.

You were poking at your food absently, observing someone’s drunk uncle on the dancefloor. That was about the most amusing thing tonight so far. Being alone at a wedding was a special kind of loneliness. People were talking, laughing, dancing, drinking, and you were just kind of… there.

Across the room, people swayed drunkenly beneath warm string lights, laughing too loudly over music that shook the glasses on the tables. Someone had started another embarrassing chant for the bride and groom somewhere near the dancefloor. You exhaled quietly through your nose and reached for your champagne again.

A loud cheer erupted near the dancefloor as somebody successfully caught the bouquet. The DJ immediately used that as an excuse to turn the music up even louder. You pressed your fingertips briefly against your temple… at this point, even the champagne wasn’t helping anymore.

Most people were too busy enjoying themselves to notice someone sitting quietly at the edge of the reception hall. And honestly, that was probably for the best. But that was also why you didn’t notice the man approaching until a glass appeared beside your plate. You just wasn’t expecting anyone to come join you, you didn’t know most of the people here.

He placed a whiskey on the table in front of you, and proper whiskey, by the smell of it.

“Champagne looked like it was losin’ the fight.” the man said, his voice calm and roughened slightly with age, carrying an easy sort of confidence that made you look up almost immediately.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Well put together in a dark dress shirt and a suit jacket, sleeves rolled up neatly, exposing his strong forearms. His tie had already been loosened at some point during the evening, like he’d quietly given up on pretending to enjoy formal events hours ago. A cigar rested between two fingers of his free hand, unlit for now.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the dancefloor, specifically toward the drunk uncle currently attempting to spin somebody’s grandmother around.

“…though I suppose that’s not the worst thing happening here.”

The dry humour made you laugh into the whiskey glass. His attention returned to you properly - not intrusive, just observant.

“Mind if I sit?”

The question sounded polite, but carried the kind of calm certainty that suggested he already knew the answer. Without waiting for much more than a small gesture from you, he pulled out the chair beside yours and settled into it with a quiet sigh.

“John.” he introduced himself. “You look like you’re here out of obligation more than desire… I figured you could use some company.”