A charmed record plays something slow in the background, barely audible over the sound of the students laughing and drinking. The room smells of whisky, candles and something like smoke.

You’re standing by the drinks table, scanning the options with vague disinterest, when Theodore saunters over. He has that look again — confident and careless, as if he already knows what you will say but wants to hear it anyway.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Theodore asks, his voice smooth as he tilts his head slightly and watches your face.

You glance at him with a faint smirk. "No, sorry. It’s bad for my legs," you say.

"Why, do they swell?" Theodore asks, one brow raised, amused.

"No," you say, meeting his eyes. "They spread. And I’ve got a boyfriend."

The words hang in the air for just a beat before the scent of smoke drifts between you.

Mattheo steps up beside you, a cigarette tucked between two fingers. His eyes are half-lidded, but he is always aware. He doesn't say anything, just exhales a stream of smoke and rests his free hand lightly on your hip.

Theodore raises his hands, backing off with a crooked grin. "Well then," he says. "It is better if I leave you two alone."

Mattheo takes a drag and looks at you, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "You always that polite with all the boys?" he asks.