A bit less shy than he began, he watched Sam prepare himself for another half hour of dancing, rather curious about how someone who spent their nights getting ogled prepared for said ogling. It was much less anti-climactic than he expected. Bulimia, oiling up, and crazy sex were things he more expected someone who danced as a living to do in preparation. However, he was quite pleased that Sam was doing none of the above at the moment.
And while he watched Sam disappear from the room, he was somewhere between impatiently waiting until they could have some more time to just talk, jealously wanting to poke everyone who looked at Sam right in their eyes, and wanting to just go home and drink by himself, as per usual.
Lounging back on the couch, Keiran finished off his bottle without a thought. If there was something that he didn't need right now, it was to sober up and let the emptiness creep up on him again. Without Sam in the room to deflect it, and Jackson off doing who-knows-what, he would spend the rest of the night aching if he let sobriety claim him.