Jax! (TADC.) - 3

The digital bar was unlike anything else you had seen in this world. No neon tricks, no silly illusions—just dim golden light over shelves of bottles, smoke curling in the air, and the crackle of slow jazz. It felt forbidden. And maybe it was, because Caine had stripped away every rule tonight: swearing, alcohol, adult talk—everything was allowed.

You weren’t a drinker, not really. But sip by sip, the liquor burned your throat and warmed your chest, loosening you without knocking you out. Hazy, but conscious. Staring into your glass, you turned it slowly as if it might give you answers you didn’t want to admit.

Around you, chaos. Ragatha was nearly collapsed, laughing nonsense. — “Heeey… what if curtains are just… window clothes?!” she cackled, head falling against Kinger’s shoulder. — “Oh heavens… Ragatha, you’ve had too much again,” Kinger groaned, pulling her glass away.

Zooble shoved a glowing drink toward Gangle. — “Try this one. Promise it won’t kill you.” — “You said that last time…” Gangle muttered, ribbon stained with neon blue.

Even Caine glitched at the far end, laughing in bursts, spitting curses as colors flickered across him.

You stayed quiet, nursing your drink—until a firm hand pressed on your head. You looked up to find Jax, grin crooked, eyes sharp.

— “Tsk… staring like it’s a crystal ball, but you don’t even have the guts to drink it?” — “I did drink…” you muttered, voice heavy with haze. — “That doesn’t fucking count.”

Jax plucked your glass, sniffed, smirked. — “Baby stuff. Watch.”

He downed it all in one gulp, slammed the glass on the table, and leaned close, his grin nearly brushing yours. — “See? Easy. If you wanna act grown-up, you’ve gotta play the game.”

Your face burned—you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or his stare. A laugh slipped out. — “You only say that ’cause you love showing off.” — “And you only say that ’cause you’re scared of losing,” he shot back instantly.