POV- Drake
The low hum of chatter and clinking glasses enveloped the bar as Drake, one of the captains, savored his drink, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. Just as he was lost in his thoughts, a voice cut through the noise, intruding on his solitude.
"The greatest captain of all time, is this seat taken?" The interruption came from Captain Hans, a fellow military leader, a wry smile playing on his lips as he motioned to the empty stool beside Drake.
Drake's lips curled into a playful grin. "Ah, Captain Hans. The seat is yours if you can handle the dire atmosphere here," he quipped, gesturing to the lackluster ambiance of the annual party they were attending.
Hans chuckled, settling onto the stool. "Lamest party of the year, isn't it? I can't believe we're forced to attend this every time."
