[ you and heine both, kaveh. burn or no, heine's liver processes the alcohol nearly as fast as he can drink it, leaving a proper state of drunkenness perpetually just out of reach. not that it stops him trying, as evidenced by how he tips his drink back again.

he hears what kaveh says. thinks about midnight, fangs bared and aiming for heine's throat; thinks about alhaitham, dodging heine's attempts to knock him back. it's true that there's something unusual about it, this time around. ]

I didn't go to the house party. Lucky for everyone, I guess. I'd probably fucking—have killed someone. [ at least he'd had a choice about going to the house party, and heine had chosen to stay home and be good. judging by the way the people who did go were affected, he can only imagine what might have happened to him: the dog on the loose, tearing in a rampage through the haunted house. oh, the body count he would leave behind. ]

So, what? People weren't enthusiastic enough about going to the last few, so now we don't have a choice?

[ he tips his head back against the cushions. heine is so tired. ]