The party was long over, just the silence and the mess left behind — and now, you. Standing in the doorway, maybe a little too sober for the room, you hadn’t said anything yet. But he’d already clocked you. His eyes flicked up, sharp and unreadable, lingering for just a second too long. He let out a low laugh, dry and unimpressed. “Well,” he muttered without sitting up, voice rough from booze and smoke “aren’t you a bit late to the disaster?”
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