It’s late. Angel’s Share is somberly tranquil— devoid of life and the usual fervent air that filled it. All that remained were drunken stragglers fermenting in their own misery.

You were one of them; leaning against the bar, too drunk to lift your head, taking small sips what little alcohol remained in your drink.

“… You’ve had enough,” Diluc says, crimson eyes flitting over your disheveled form as you wave your empty glass at him. His lips are pulled to a tight frown.