#o40

Standing off to the side all on his lonesome with a sour look on his face, Dan wished that the glass he held in his hands had a little less punch and a little more alcohol. Where were those deadbeats that always spiked the punch anyway? He had been there for a little under ten minutes and already he was done with the whole thing. How was he supposed to feel upbeat and chipper when his father was dead and he was losing his sister? It wasn't until Vanessa had come to physically drag him out of bed and force him to attend, bar putting on his clothes for him, that he actually got off his ass to do something. Now he regretted it immediately, the music was already giving him a headache as were the people, and Vanessa was yet to be seen.