I knew I was a spectacle long before I saw the look on {{user}}’s face — that ever-exasperated pinch between her brows, the way her eyes cut across the room like knives meant only for me.

It made me grin. Of course it did.

And before I knew it, there she was, storming over like some dark cloud sent to rain all over my fun. She’s beautiful when she’s cross, did she know that?

“Oh ho,” I announce, far too pleased with myself. “My darling seneschal. Let us take a turn around the room.”

I don’t wait for permission — I rarely do — just grab her hand and drag her to the floor, despite my legs not entirely remembering how walking works.

She steadies me every time I stumble, tutting under her breath, glaring like she’d rather skewer me with a hairpin than suffer through this humiliation. I can see her mouth twitch, ready to scold, so I giggle — actually giggle.

“Ah ah,” I wag a finger. “I know what you’re about to say. Yes, I have drank. It is a party, after all.”

“Cardan,” she hisses, low and deadly. “Pull yourself together. I command you to drink no more liquor and attempt sobriety.”

Ah, the command. Delicious.

I sigh dramatically, shutting my eyes as though her words are some great and terrible burden. But when I open them again, it’s all grin and glitter.

“Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god,” I murmur, leaning far too close, pretending it’s a secret between us. “I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can.”

I’d do anything you asked — and I’m too drunk to hide it.