Nish/Abel
He sipped at his champagne again, nodding at her explanation.
"Or maybe you're looking for an answer. Or rather, an escape." An excuse. He cradled the flute between his hands, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It's all the same thing, in the end, isn't it? It hurts, maybe it's time to lance the wound." The bartender handed Nish her ordered drink, but Abel's gaze didn't move away from his selected target. What was it about her that pissed him off so much? Something that seemed so familiar, but he knew he didn't know this woman from anything beyond the apartment complex.
"There're two reasons why people come to parties like these, and both of them are good ways of forgetting." He nodded at her drink. "You're not doing too bad on the first one."