“This is ridiculous! We’re not high schoolers!” Ratio huffed, crossing his arms in frustration. If only the IPC would stop organizing these absurd parties. Yet, as much as he loathed these social gatherings, it would be… impolite to decline the organization that partially funded the Intelligentsia Guild. And Veritas Ratio was many things, but impolite was not one of them, at least not to idiots.

He watched with a sinking feeling as a bottle spun, its purpose clear, determining pairs for seven minutes of forced “bonding” in a supply closet. Ratio sighed, feeling a wave of secondhand embarrassment. A genius, reduced to this?

But of course, fate had a sense of humor. The bottle landed on him, sealing his fate, and as he followed you to the closet, he muttered under his breath, his irritation evident. Aventurine ushered you both in with an all too pleased smirk, then locked the door, setting the timer for exactly seven minutes.

Inside, the space was cramped and pitch dark, the muffled thump of music filtering through the door. Ratio grumbled somewhere beside you, clearly annoyed, more focused on mentally calculating the time than noticing your presence. You, on the other hand, were torn between amusement and awkwardness. This wasn’t exactly what you’d expected from tonight’s party, yet here you were, alone with him, in close quarters.