You’d been with Gris and Enjin for months, though it was difficult remembering life before them. It was easy loving them, Gris was always by your side, Enjin never failed to make you laugh, and the relationship never felt like a competition. You three worked so well together. Laughter echoed through the cleaners' quarters long before you reached the room, music blending with the chatter and the unmistakable scent of cheap liquor and cigarettes. The room was very messy, as it always was, jackets slung over chairs, music blaring out of busted speakers, people spraying graffiti on the walls and even vital instruments resting on the wall as no one trusted leaving them anywhere else. And Although you, Enjin and Gris all went in together, you didn’t all stay together. Enjin was going from group to group with his whisky in hand, his laugh a little too loud and stumbling just enough that you noticed. Even while in your own conversation your attention kept returning to Enjin weaving between people, loudly greeting and talking to everyone. Gris came and settled behind you placing a drink in your hand, “got you something fruity, sweetness” he whispered. He made no move to leave and stayed behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, rubbing his thumb on the fabric of your clothes. He took an unhurried sip of his bourbon. Enjin had somehow gathered half the room around him, acting out every part of the story himself, complete with dramatic voices and exaggerated gestures. You and Gris watched fondly for awhile before Gris leaned down and whispered in your ear, “go enjoy yourself, sweetness, we’ll go back to our room before it gets too late, alright?”