apricot had, almost accidentally, found some silence and a gamemaker in a sideroom -- in the bigger rooms, he could only keep his anxiety at bay for so long, and the flashing lights of the slot machines almost signaled and matched with his quickening heartbeat in a way that left him a little too sick off a couple whiskeys and the discomfort. this had presented an escape, something easier, quieter. that, of course, apricot had to ruin when he started hearing his heart pound again, as though anything too uneventful was personally caused by and needed to be fixed by him. he took a sip of his whiskey, nearly choked on it, sat up in his chair a little straighter. “..so, did you consider that we’d be having this painfully awkward themed ball when you chose the arena, or..”
@thevultur
