Seamus & Open (end of the night)
It could be said that Seamus was enthusiastic in everything he did. He was never one for doing things by halves, and instead he’d throw himself into his projects. A good example of this was how enthusiastically he had thrown himself at the open bar. He’d been running around the whole night, barely spending thirty minutes with more than one person, and, unfortunately, that meant there was no one there to remind him to slow down. He should’ve found Dean. He knew Dean was there somewhere. Dean always made him think straight. He loved Dean. Where was Dean?
The party had gone on for a long time, or maybe it had just felt like a long time. Either way, Seamus had had fun, and drunk the whole night through, eventually switching to shots when it became too difficult to walk around with a glass without spilling it everywhere. He was good at holding his alcohol. He could drink like a fish and still swim in straight lines, but usually he’d run out of money, or run out of booze, or have someone there to remind him to slow down or to pace himself against.
He’d been able to fool the bar staff for a while before finally, he’d been cut off. And that had angered him. How dare they tell Seamus Finnigan he had had enough! Drunk Seamus was a nice guy, but he was also a glutton, and always wanted more. Barely able to stand up straight, Seamus had wandered away from the dwindling crowds and out of the ballroom. There had to be a wine cellar around here somewhere! Rich folks like this always had wine cellars!
Why was this corridor spinning so much?
He stumbled and couldn’t catch himself or retain his balance. He fell against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting, hunched over in an empty corridor, waiting for the spinning to stop.