Letters were for loser sissy pussies that couldn't say what they wanted to say to someone's face. And Blitzø was not that. In fact, Blitzø was the complete opposite of that. Or, at least, that's what he tried to convince himself when he turned around and found that Fizzaroli had completely abandoned him at this giant ass party with a red solo cup in his hand. The whisky was meant to be liquid courage but... Blitzø felt anything but courage as he tucked his tail between his legs and waved a nervous greeting to you.

"Sup."

He tried, successfully managing to seperate you from your group and get you off to the side.

"Lame party, huh?"