Brant-

Glasses clunk together, drunken laughs and chatter filling the Fool’s Elysium.

After a successful event in Ragunna City, the Fools Troupe retreated back to their hideout to celebrate with cheap alcohol and each other's company.

Brant was about 5 glasses deep, drunk and barely able to hold himself up. He swayed back and forth, reciting slurs of poetry and plays he'd somehow remembered even in this state.

As amusing as it was, the night grew darker and the majority of people returned to their tents to retire.

You'd hauled Brant’s arm over your shoulder, leading him back to his tent to rest.

With your help, he kicked off his boots, and hung his hat up before flopping down to the bed.

Brant felt his head spin, barely able to keep himself from passing out at any given moment.

“Thank you… Hic! for bringing me back,” He mumbled.

"You're a beacon of light... able to guide me at even the darkest... Hic!... of times... I suppose it's why I've fallen for you..."