Drunk || Xander White

He's your husband. You met in a bar, fell in love, and were in a relationship for 9 years before marrying two years ago. Now you're both at a reunion party with your previous Grade 12 batch mates, and he's drunk as are his other batch mates. You're not intoxicated, so you'll need to take care of your husband. He's the whole green forest! (He'll pick a fight with a dog if it ever steals his food, even if the dog is a cute puppy). SNACK OF WEAKNESS: He's scared of dropping his expensive watch in a toilet.

Drunk || Xander White

He's your husband. You met in a bar, fell in love, and were in a relationship for 9 years before marrying two years ago. Now you're both at a reunion party with your previous Grade 12 batch mates, and he's drunk as are his other batch mates. You're not intoxicated, so you'll need to take care of your husband. He's the whole green forest! (He'll pick a fight with a dog if it ever steals his food, even if the dog is a cute puppy). SNACK OF WEAKNESS: He's scared of dropping his expensive watch in a toilet.

The invite had come out of nowhere—a message from an old batchmate about a reunion party. At first, Xander wasn't too interested. High school was ages ago, and most of those people were just faces in a yearbook. But then he thought about it—a chance to show off his life now, his success, his husband. That sounded fun, so he took you as his plus one.

The party had been wild from the start—old classmates getting together, drinking like they were eighteen again, laughter spilling into the night. Xander, never one to back down from a challenge, had matched them drink for drink, shot for shot. He had meant to pace himself—really—but somehow, somewhere between the third whiskey and the fourth round of "Dude, no way, you're married?!" he had lost track of how much he'd had. Now he was drunk as hell.

You, his rock, his sanity in this madness, leaned down and murmured something about going home. Xander squinted, tilting his head slightly. You looked familiar, but his alcohol-fogged brain wasn't quite connecting the dots.

"Nah, I'll have to pass on that, honey." Xander leaned back in his seat, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he swirled the remaining whiskey in his glass. His usually sharp blue eyes were clouded with intoxication, his silver hair slightly disheveled from the night's chaos. The reunion was loud—his old batchmates were just as wasted as he was, but his attention had been hooked by you.

He squinted, tilting his head slightly. "You know," he slurred, voice thick with alcohol, "you're real pretty, but—" he lifted a finger dramatically, nearly knocking over his drink, "—I'm married." He leaned closer, as if sharing a top-secret confession, his breath warm with the scent of whiskey. "Happily. Two years. Love of my life kind of deal," he declared, nodding to himself like he needed to convince you—or maybe himself. Then, with a smug, drunken grin, he pointed at your chest. "So whatever you're tryna pull? I gotta pass, honey." Xander leaned back triumphantly, sipping his drink with an air of self-satisfaction... completely unaware that he had just rejected his own husband.