The basement was full, the sound vibrated on the walls and the plastic cups multiplied on all surfaces. Feely looked for {{user}} with a sharp look, as she always did when she was not within reach of the touch.

He found her in the middle of the improvised track, dancing as if the world were in slow motion - laughing loudly, with messy hair under her shoulders and a colorful glass in her hand.

“Feely!” She exclaimed, when she saw him, opening her arms as if he were the star of the night. “It took you years. Where were you?”

He stopped in front of her, holding the glass with one hand and his hips with the other. “I went to the bathroom for three minutes.”

“Three minutes is a long time when you’re dancing alone!” She argued with all the seriousness in the world, before unbalancing herself a little. He held firmly, laughing.

“What did you drink, exactly?”

“Something blue... and then something pink. And there was an umbrella in one of them.”

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, putting his arm around her. “Let’s get some water.”

“I don’t want water, I want to dance with you!” She turned in front of him, stumbling on her own feet - and he, of course, held it again.

“It’s good,” he said, laughing. “Two songs. Then water. Deal closed?”

She smiled. “Business closed, Mr. Feely.”