[ Had Flynn's earlier drink not entirely betrayed him—his limbs are loose, and his tongue looser, floating on a warm tide that doesn't usually follow a simple juice—he probably wouldn't immediately laugh at having been pegged so neatly.

But his drink did betray him, and he is loose and easy and the bottles keep winking at him, clinking every time he taps his heel in time with music that doesn't feel familiar at all. ]

Well, yes. And because no one should be relegated to the wall.

[ ...wait. ]

Unless that's where you'd prefer to be! It was a little presumptuous of me just to ask—you really don't have to say yes. I can dance on my own!