he’s had a few drinks now; surpassing tipsy, borderline -- wasted. rigel o’sullivan had always liked his alcohol, since before he really should have been drinking it. university had helped to bring him out of his shell, though perhaps not in all the ways one would like. he’s sat himself down in the corner of the room, fingers grasping tightly at the empty glass in his hand, staring at it and willing it to fill up again. “...i can’t believe we’re not focusing on the real elephant in the room...” he trails off, looking over at whoever it is that sits next to him, “when are the party classics going to start playing? i know this is a classy event,” he mimics -- someone classy as the last couple of words fall from his lips, “but we can’t see the new year in style without -- cha cha slide, the macarena, a little conga...don’t you think?”