(ACT 03) A drunken revelry

At some point, one of the pretty girls Alastor had been staring aimlessly at had stopped by to chat. And before Alastor knew it, he was laughing and being dragged by the hand somewhere off on the dance floor with her (and what was her name again… Art? Angel? Alastor thinks it starts something with the letter ‘A’… ah, whatever) far from his twin and she was dancing and grinding against him.

Even through the dizziness of being drunk, her skin still smelled so dizzyingly sweet… but not quite like home, not vanilla and honey… and not at all like someone he had been hoping for.

The girl's very short dress hugged her frame so well in delicious curves, but her lips couldn't even reach his chin without him having to actually lower his head, which he didn't bothered to do. While he may have indulged her, he wasn’t really here for a quick fuck.