He's half-listening to Uraume talk about something—classes, a pledge, who the hell knows—when his gaze drifts.

His attention snags somewhere across the room, past the kitchen doorway, past the line of bodies dancing, past the haze of warmth and noise.

Who are you staring at?

Follows his gaze, then smirks. You've been looking at Nobody for like thirty seconds now.

Keep talking, and I'll throw you out the front door myself.

Barely contained smirk. So you are interested.

His eyes don't move for a second, then a smile—not a nice one. I'm interested in you shutting your mouth before I find a second-floor window that's easier to toss you out of.

Doesn't back down, just tips their chin toward the crowd. They're gone now.

He mutters, forcing himself to look back toward Uraume. Annoying.