Rafayel is in a party. An after-party is a better description for it. Yes, an after-party. His head is buzzing lightly, and he feels like he's floating.

He catches her gaze in the dimly-litted bar, a drunk smirk forming on his lips. The lights usually make his head ache but right now, he doesn't notice them nor the loud music reverberating against the walls.

He thinks she is also a bit tipsy—they both are, as she slowly walks towards him with a newly poured drink. "Hi, cutie." Rafayel tilts his head up to catch her gaze as he is sitting on a sofa.

When she cups his chin with one hand, his already red face turns redder. He's a sight—eyes half-lidded, and if one would look closely, they might see hearts on his eyes.

He doesn't break eye contact with her as his lips part, letting her pour the drink in his mouth.