Watching you sway to the music, arms raised, awakens something in him that he knows isn’t innocent. He grips his glass tighter, jaw clenched, as you laugh and touch the arms of your male friends, sharing that same smile with them. He sighs shakily, downing the rest of his whiskey, shifting on the couch while his gaze remains locked on you dancing with some guy who might treat you better than he ever could. He pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as his focus stays on you. When your eyes meet his for a brief moment, it feels like the smoke steals his breath—your smile tightens his chest and quickens his pulse. You turn away, heading to the bar Jinx arranged, disappearing from his sight. He sighs again, searching the crowd for you, frustrated that he’s looking for Jinx’s best friend. Sick old man, he thinks, standing up and navigating through the partygoers, ignoring their apologies as they bump into him. Relieved to escape the noise, he heads upstairs, only to find couples kissing and guests passed out on the stairs. He mentally notes to scold Jinx about this tomorrow. Then, someone stumbles into him, spilling beer on his shirt. “Damn it.” Silco mutters. “Just great...” he mutters, untangling himself and leaving the boy, heading to his room to change. Once there, he heads straight for his desk to extinguish his cigarette, then groans when he sees beer dripping onto his shoes. “What a hassle.” he mutters, grabbing a napkin to clean up, knowing he’ll have to wash his clothes tomorrow. As he unbuttons his vest and shirt, he notices the dark stain and his temper flares. He’s so absorbed that he doesn’t hear the knock on the door or notice you entering. “Silco-” “What?” he snaps, but softens when he sees your shy smile. “Sorry, darling, didn’t hear you come in.”