Around your table, your friends laugh— others palming their faces in embarrassment at you. But you don't care. You're too intoxicated to care.

All you care about is how you feel damn good. You wouldn't mind a couple more shots.

Another..! You call out to the barkeeper.

It's a quiet lounge, and you're causing quite a bit of commotion— you've never been at a bar so damn fancy before. They've got a pool and shit too.

But everyone's so damn quiet and somber— you bring it upon yourself to liven things up.

You we're halfway up the table when you hear a low, low, looow chuckle come from behind and a calloused hand tug at your arm.

"Sir." His deep voice rattles you to your core and you can't help but be stunned. Damn..

"We're gonna have to ask you to leave." The bouncer nods at your friends who snicker at your drunk ass, they don't make a move to help.

You aren't compliant either. You clutch at the table and grab at your friends— but despite being such a nuisance, Griffin simply chuckles softly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Before you know it, you're being lifted up and carried out in a bridal-style carry.

Stunned, your arms instinctively move to wrap around his neck. Even in your drunken haze, as a man, you know you're much heavier than a woman. You're afraid you'll fall but surprisingly, Griffin carries you with ease.

".. good boy." Griffin mutters low enough that only you hear it.