Standing at the drink table was not where he expected people to run into him. The door, or the dance floor, yes. Here? Oh no. And worst yet, when he turned to give his attacker a wide-eyed sort of look, he was greeted with a drunk girl giggling.

And swaying.

His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, his hands coming up as if he could ward it off with a single gesture. "Don't vomit," he said, though it was more of a meek command.

Vomiting would be the end of him.