— open to: anyone idfk
Grant hadn't been there very long, and while he considered himself amiable enough to make friends, something felt a little... off. Not with him, or the place itself, but him. It sort of felt like something shifted with all this godly energy surrounding him, making him reconsider things he previously thought to be true about himself. Maybe that's what it was. The excuse he needed to keep himself at a distance from his new cohort.
(The amateur porn star, of all people, feeling uncomfortable around people. Irony.)
But he knew he needed to put himself out there. The others started to recognize him more and more the longer he stayed, so introductions became increasingly unneeded, which did help things. So there he stood on the outskirts of whatever number party this week it was, feeling the warm night air on his skin as it condensed on his exposed, lightly hairy chest under his unbuttoned shirt, hoping tonight he would make some true friends finally. Or at least a friend. One would be nice...
"Like your shirt," he says to someone passing by, wondering if they even heard him, or if he even wanted them to hear him.
"...Like your shirt?" C'mon, Grant, where did your social skills go...