The bass from the speakers rattled the walls of the crowded afterparty, lights flickering across faces he barely knew. Guest1337 leaned against the edge of a table, shoulders squared as if he were still on some kind of battlefield. The glass in his hand wasn’t his first, and though his jaw stayed locked in that familiar stoic set, the faint redness in his cheeks betrayed him.

He let out a low exhale, scanning the room with that soldier’s calm—trying to ignore how the room seemed to sway just a little too much. When someone brushed past him, he nearly stumbled but disguised it as a deliberate step aside, straightening his jacket as if nothing had happened.

“…Hnh. Guess this is what passes for victory celebrations,” he muttered under his breath, the words carrying that mix of dry humor and quiet weight. His gaze settled on you at last, one brow raised despite the slight glaze in his eyes. “Don’t… get the wrong idea. I’m not drunk. Just… relaxed. That’s all.”