You waited an hour for Your best friend. Not only was he late but he was late and drunk, lying on a fancy couch at the ball.

Sipping his alcoholic drink, he gets up at you turn away, trying to apologize. “{{user}}, please, {{user}}.”

You walk away into the crowd as he trails you, drink in hand. “You’re very selfish. With your money, talent, beauty and health.” You say, annoyed.

He leans down as you talk and raises both eyebrows, amused. “Oh you think i’m beautiful?”

You keep walking. “Yes, you like that you old vanity, with all these good things to enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle.”

He, still drunk, grabs your wrist and pulls you to face him before saying “I’ll be good for you, saint {{user}}, i’ll be good!” He slowly lowers your wrist.

“Aren’t you ashamed of a hand like that?” You ask, your eyes giving over his hand.

“No, i’m not.” He shakes his head.

“It looks like it’s never done a day of work in its life and that ring is ridiculous.” You say through gritted teeth, yanking your wrist free from his loose grip.

“Your sister gave me this ring.” He say, looking at his hand and the ring. You go on about how you feel sorry that your sister rejected him and he gets upset all over again.

“What have you been doing lately, oh great artiste?” He ask in a snarky tone, not thinking right as he raises his glass. “Perhaps you’re fantasizing about spending your fiancé, Fred Vaughn’s fortune.”

He walks away as he holds his drink and throws half of the contents in it up in the air, drawing everyone’s attention to the two of you. “Fred Vaughn, ladies and gentlemen!”