I was drunk before 5 that night. I was absolutely shitfaced by the time the Whyte Serpent opened. The ground shifted beneath my feet and familiar faces became hazy. It was a good thing I didn't have enough money to buy food, else it'd probably be regurgitated on someone's chest.

When Jason motioned me, I stumbled into the Pit.

I shouldn't have fought while drunk.

I shouldn't have fought on an empty stomach.

I was dizzy and my guts lurched towards my throat every time I lunged at my target.

So when I saw his face in the crowd, I thought for sure it was a drunken hallucination. Because nothing was real, especially not him. If I kept his name out of my mouth, then he'd disappear.

He wasn't really there. No one was. If I squinted enough, his face became a stranger like everyone else.

Knowing all that didn't stop my world from spinning. It didn't stop my lungs from collapsing when my opponent landed a solid punch to my ribs. It didn't stop my heart from thumping all too fast or my vision from blurring or my hands from shaking or my breath from accelerating.

Knowing Alex was supposed to be a stranger didn't stop him from being there when I woke up.