And I want you.

Larkin had been hoping to give Tic his share of attention for the remainder of the party, but something had caught his eyes, and shortly after his ears as well. The sight was more pleasing than the sound though, and instead of listening, he stared straight across the floor to the man sitting against the wall, finger plucking at the strings of his instrument. The dim light made it difficult to see him inside his cloak, and after a few moments, Larkin looked down at Tic who, displeasing him very much, had shown no intention of drinking from his glass. He was about to suggest taking a small taste when the bard came close, taking on his attention once again.

Then he was congratulated. Congratulations for what? He thought angrily, his eyebrows creasing as he stared down at Ergot, who had removed his cloak to present himself. Did this lowly bard think this had been a challenge, that he couldn’t pull off something so grand and wonderful? Larkin lifted the crystal glass to his lips, took a dangerously long drink, and sighed as he took it from his mouth, licking his lips. His expression softened quickly and he gave his same, dismissive smile, silently accepting the compliment. Then - it seemed the bard was being slow at leaving - he said, “Go play your music, bard.”

And Ergot left, Larkin watching the back his leather clad body as he returned to his corner.

The music seemed to grow louder, the different sounds melting into one another to create a strange, hypnotic flow to the people and everything around Larkin. Even his vision blurred as the bright dresses and sparkling colors swirled and flew past him, trailing greens and blues and yellows. He stood a little taller, towered over those around him, and enjoyed the surreal world the drink put him in. It seemed forever until the effect faded, but it did not leave him completely. He felt light, wanted to move and touch everyone, wanted to live up to his reputation and be equal to the liveliness of the massive ballroom’s party. And they expected it, casting glances to him past their dance partners, waiting for him to steal away the spotlight.

A beautiful pink swept across in front of him, bowing swiftly and uttering a compliment he’d heard thousands of times before. The pink remained, dotted in his eyes, long after it had left, and he wondered where he’d seen the shade before. It was lovely, and as it faded, his eyes swept the people, searching again for it. He wanted to go after the woman; the distracted glimpse had not been enough for him. His eyelids fluttered at the bright that surrounded her, like a beautiful aura - and he was pleased, another sigh of pleasure escaping his crimson lips. Larkin started, as if to go after her, but there was a tug at his arm, and his eyes returned to the bland white and dark skin that was at his side.

He unhooked his arm from Tic’s, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of the glass the boy held, over his own fingers, which were so cold compared to the warm of Larkin’s glove. The man lifted the glass to Tic’s mouth, and whispered in his ear, “Take a small sip,” he said, and then, as if sensing the boy’s doubts, added, “You’ll love it.”