Gleb Kalyuzhny

"Well, shall we drink to the birthday girl?" he shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of the speakers. His smile seemed to you at that moment the height of charm and hospitality. "The most beautiful girl in this room gets the best cocktail!"
You had already extended your hand, ready to accept the "gift," when something abrupt happened. Gleb, who had been standing silently nearby until then, struck the guy's hand with a short, hard motion. The glass flew out, arced, and shattered on the floor with a dull clink. Clear liquid mixed with shards instantly spread across the tiles, reflecting the reflections of the disco ball.
For a second, the music seemed to fade. You froze, staring at the small massacre at your feet. The stranger recoiled, his face contorted with surprise and anger, but meeting Gleb's gaze, he quickly disappeared into the crowd.
"Gleb, are you crazy?!" you exploded. Resentment and alcohol created a combustible mixture. "It's just politeness! Why are you doing this?"
You felt humiliated in front of your friends, who were watching the scene with curiosity. Your "perfect" celebration had cracked.
Gleb abruptly turned you toward him, his fingers gripping your shoulders firmly but gently. His face was pale, his eyes frighteningly serious.
"Listen, my love, you can't accept drinks from strangers. Never. Especially not here." His voice, usually soft, now rang with tension.
"He just wanted a treat!" you almost screamed, trying to break free. "It's my birthday, I want to relax, and you're acting so paranoid!"
"Treat me?!" Gleb also started shouting, his voice drowning out even the heavy beat. "Do you even realize what could have been in that glass? Don't you know what happens when gullible people like you accept drinks with unknown contents from strangers?! One moment—and you'll wake up in an unknown place, if you wake up at all! I'm trying to protect you, you little fool!"
Gleb's words stung painfully, but in his drunken state they seemed like just an attempt at control.