Clara and John
A wave of hear rushed through John when he felt her skin beneath his fingers and he was glad he was wearing a mask. Goddammit. Clara's arms were around his shoulders and John could not think. It was so unnatural for him, the reclusive Hydra student, the half-breed who was known for prematurely killing an elder.
Above them, on the rafters, the Crow, John's spirit animal, began to call to him. "Magic costs. Magic costs. Magic costs."
In John's experience, the only way he could mute the voice of his meddlesome spirit being was to get high. He stopped moving with Clara and gently tugged her arms off his shoulders.
"Sorry, I just... I need to use the restroom first. Real quick. I'll be right back."
John's hand slid off her waist with a lingering caress and then dipped into his pocket where he found the small baggie of coke. He needed it now. Not for magic, but for making this night special for Clara without his usual insecurities manifesting.