Dino both loved and loathed parties. On one hand a party was an excuse to drink as much alcohol as possible; on the other hand, a party was an excuse to drink as much alcohol as possible.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like to drink until he could barely remember his own name,
he just found that memories were generally easier to recall when one wasn’t totally out of ones head at said time.
He hadn’t even wanted a party in the first place; he would have been more than content to have a quiet beer in his local.
Instead he had been forced into attending a huge party where everyone made a fuss over him and felt it their duty to remind him that he was in fact a whole year older than he had been
the previous day.
A passing waiter frowned and glared at him as the redhead snatched a glass of champagne from the shoulder high tray.
But the ex-Delta Force didn’t care, if he was going to be subjected to a party he was going to do it drunk.
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