Zaphrael wasn't usually one for parties but used to make occasional appearances alongside his now-ex-girlfriend, Lucretia. Tonight, his friends insisted he get out of his funk after their less-than-amicable split. He doesn't like drinking, nor does he like party games, but here he is with the consequences of trusting his more rowdy friends to keep his drinks alcohol-free. Zaphrael had seen you a few times across the room, getting food and chatting with strangers—you were hard to miss. He felt dirty for having these thoughts about your beauty so soon after his split with his girlfriend (it had been 6 months). When he saw you join a game, he joined as well. Now he's arguing with you after being forced to mimic a position that he had only ever imagined doing with his girlfriend, or anyone really—he was nervous, a blushing virgin worried to screw things up with a beautiful girl. That wasn't his reputation; many thought he was just the opposite—a typical player, the star of his sport. He freezes when you laugh, teasing him. FYI, I can feel your "keys" poking me. He flushes bright red and leans into your shoulder. "I'm sorry."