Blair had no idea what he was doing here. He had received the invitation to Caitlin’s ball from Darach, and on any other day he would have said no, but he had already told Cheren and Bianca beforehand. They knew the invitations allowed both Blair and Whitlea to take guests, so they had been planning for this night for a while now. Blair had since thought that Cheren and Bianca inviting themselves had been rather rude, but knew that was a side effect of beating the Champion: everyone thinks they’re your friend. So, on a night when dressing up in a tuxedo and attending an ass-kissing party was last on his list of things to do, he nonetheless found himself doing exactly that.

But just because he was here didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Come on, Blair. Cheer up!” Bianca, his date for the night, had been riding him for over an hour, trying to get him away from the bar and on the dance floor.

Blair put his chin on the bar and continued sipping his drink. “Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?” he said aloud.

Bianca had trouble hearing him over the loud music. “What?”

Blair brought his head back up and spoke a littler louder. “I said bringing me here was fucked up.”

Bianca put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Aww, come on, Mister Basculin. Dance with me! I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

Blair, tired of having to argue with her, gulped the last of his drink and wandered over to the dance floor, Bianca following close behind. Now that the people in attendance had gotten a little tipsy, the music had changed from “regular” ball music to something a little easier to dance to. Blair figured this party couldn’t be all bad if they were playing dubstep now. So, dance he did, but not without feeling like an epileptic rag doll.

“You dance like an epileptic rag doll,” said a voice from behind him. Blair whipped around to see Grimsley, of all people, dressed in a pinstripe suit and dancing with Shauntal. Grimsley looked Blair up and down and furrowed his brow. “What are you wearing a tuxedo for?” he asked.

Blair shrugged. “Just felt like it, I guess.” He turned to leave, heading back to the bar.

“Blair!” Bianca yelled, running after him. “Where are you going?”

“I need a drink!” He yelled back, clearly irritated.

“Well, fine! I’m gonna keep dancing then!” She said, more to everyone around her than to Blair.

Having made it back to the bar, Blair began to survey the guests. Obviously, Grimsley and Shauntal were there, having moved on from the dance floor to a secluded corner of the ballroom, and from dancing to making out. Blair chuckled at this, shaking his head. He looked back at who was all dancing. There was a woman in a formal kimono with short black hair dancing with Burgh, as well as a tall man in spiky red hair strutting around like he owned the place. And good God, he was wearing a cape.

‘Tools, all of them,’ Blair thought. He turned around and looked at the bartender. He was an old, bald man of medium height, wearing a red shirt with a white tie and a white vest. The only distinctive feature about him was a prominently worn and properly groomed white mustache, similar to the facial hair of Cheren’s Samurott. Blair thought it odd that this man was also wearing sunglasses, despite the room being very dark, save for the glow sticks and the occasional strobe light.

“Hey, barkeep,” Blair said. “Get me a whiskey, will you?”

“Sure thing, kid,” he said while filling a glass with the amber liquid and passing it to Blair. “Hey, you look a little down. What’s your name, kid?”

Blair sipped his glass. “Blair. You?”

“Ah,” the bartender said. “I’ve heard of you. You’re the newest Champion from here, aren’t you?”

Blair nodded. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said, not being able to help a smile form on his face.

The bartender extended his hand. “Name’s Blaine. Good to meet you.” They shook hands. “So, Blair, how come you’re not out there getting all the ladies, huh? Don’t you have a date for tonight?”

Blair took another sip. “Yeah, but she’s out there dancing with God-knows-who.”

“What’s she like?” Blaine asked.

“Well, her name’s Bianca,” Blair said with a smile. He was looking down at his glass, which he was now spinning on the table. “Real bubbly girl, you know? Nothing really ever gets her down. Always admired that about her.”

A small smile formed on Blaine’s face. “Sounds like a good catch,” he said.

Blair snapped out of his trance and looked up. “Oh, no, we’re not dating or anything. We’re just friends.”

Blaine nodded his head, understanding the situation at once. “Ah, I see. Well, good luck with that.” And with a wink, he walked away, off to serve the man in the gaudy cape.