#(dante 01)

Darrell scanned the room, sipping on a drink that he already forgot the identity of (he’d just copied the someone else’s order.) It had a foul chemical taste that was... stimulating, at least. There wasn’t much else he could do, as it seemed most of these people had already found their groups that Darrell saw little chance of breaking into. Finally, he noticed someone who seemed unengaged, sitting away from the dance floor. Darrell approached the man, not seating himself but leaning casually against the opposite chair.