SOBER UP ; open, drinking party

They weren’t as drunk as Thomas was. Nowhere near it, in fact. Rainier’s mind was comfortably tinged with a warm fog around the edges and they found themself more prone to flirting - which is to say, really damn prone - but it would take them a few more drinks to be at Thomas’s level, something they seemed to aspire to be at, because here they cane bread in hand with the other outstretched to receive one of the pilfered drinks. They had been enjoying some nice wine and taking it easy with some cheese and bread - real bougie shit - but maybe it was time to go for something a little stronger.

“[color=#77BFC7]Oh, pick me, sir.” They laughed, red-cheeked and cheerful, taking something and batting their eyelashes because if not here, where the hell else? They threw their head back for a drink. Didn’t taste as good as they wanted, but good company made up for bad flavor, Rainier decided, swaying through the crowd. It had gotten warm enough that they had their scarf draped over one tattooed arm instead of circling their neck, and the tanktop made clear the thin scar across their throat. Nothing that Rainier had to think about now, though.

They leaned over where Amren reclined, tipping their head so ghostly blonde bangs obscured their vision somewhat. “[color=#77BFC7]Interesting meaning good, I hope? I’d hate it if this wasn’t fun for you.” Rainier fretted playfully, bringing the bottle to their lips once more.