Lucian flailed, trying to push himself upright, but the edge of his coat refused to let go. Alaric's grip was firm, unyielding.
"Let go!" Lucian snapped, tugging, eyes narrowing. "I don't have the strength to entertain your petty state!"
Alaric's voice was low, rough with the remnants of drink, but clear. "Please… don't go."
Lucian froze, one brow arching. "Excuse me? Did the almighty crown prince just beg me?" He tugged again, exasperated. "Honestly, leave my coat! I've better things to do than worry about your… personal crises."
Alaric didn't move, only leaned closer, and the scent hit him. Strong, sharp, alcohol-soaked, slightly sour. Lucian recoiled, grimacing.
"Ugh! You reek of wine," he said, waving a hand in front of his nose. "Do you always assault the senses of others after a drink, or am I just special tonight?"
