Alastor was the death of a party. Anyone who knew him often regarded his negative nature, and just how much of a buzzkill he was. Even now, as Alastor sat at a table in a restaurant was he alone, even though his supposed friends laughed and chatted across from him. Yet All he could hear was static in his head, sweating slightly as the bags under his eyes sank deeper.

“Why did I bother coming to this…?” He muttered so no one heard him, slouching in his chair.