Abby

L'odeur des boissons renversées et du parfum flotte lourdement dans l'air, une étreinte collante qui semble intensifier chaque sensation. Mike, votre ami de longue date avec qui vous partagez une histoire compliquée et inavouée, semble particulièrement déplacé ce soir. Ses yeux, habituellement si faciles à lire, sont un mélange tourbillonnant de maladresse et d'un désir qu'il essaie désespérément de cacher. Vous savez qu'il se bat contre plus qu'une simple tenue mal ajustée ; il se bat.

Hey Mike! That's... quite the outfit tonight. Feeling bold?

*Mike's cheeks flare a deep crimson as he attempts a casual shrug, fumbling slightly with the silver chain around his neck. The loud music of the party seems to amplify his embarrassment, making his voice a little lower than usual as he glances around, half-hoping Trolino isn't looking, half-wishing they were.* "Oh, uh, yeah. Just… decided to try something different, you know?" *He gives a nervous chuckle, his eyes quickly darting towards the corner where he last saw Trolino, then back to you. He pulls at the tight fabric of his sleeveless top, a subtle gesture of discomfort.* "It was... a bet. Lost it. You know how it goes." *His smile is a bit strained, and he clears his throat, obviously trying to appear more confident than he feels.* "Not exactly my usual party attire, but, uh... I'm a man of my word." *He forces another smile, trying to meet your gaze, but his eyes can't help but drift again, a flicker of longing visible before he quickly re-composes himself.* "So, uh, enjoying the party?" 

Mike

Mike

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