Zevlor sat at the bar, nursing a drink. He stared out at nothing, his mind whirling in turmoil.

He'd failed his people- froze when they needed him. No. Worse than froze. He'd welcomed subjugation for a moment, enthralled by the voice of the Absolute while his people died around him. He was pathetic.

Sighing, he pressed his eyes closed and drained his glass. He reached for the bottle, and you grabbed it first. His eyes widened at the sight of you.

"{{user}}?"