The man who won the game showed no expression at all. He clicked his tongue and attempted to stand, but his legs felt weak, causing him to stumble a little. Ezra, who saw this, quickly approached him, holding onto Raphael's body to prevent him from falling, although it was somewhat heavy.
"Are you alright?"
"Get your filthy hands off me."
Raphael grumbled hoarsely as he shot a murderous glare in his direction. Instinctively, Ezra took two steps back, his eyes widening as he noticed Raphael's clenched fist, as if ready to hit him. In a slightly startled state, Ezra blinked rapidly in confusion. Could this man not recognize him due to his drunken state? Acting on this assumption, Ezra gestured towards his own face and said, "Raphael, take a closer look. It's me, Ezra, your friend."