The night had barely progressed, and already Aire was exhausted. He sunk into the chair, trying to relax until it was time for everyone to migrate to the ballroom. Rosemund had come back to their table with a tray of desserts, but this time Aire didn't even looked up at her out of defeat. If she got even the least bit of satisfaction out of that, he figured that would be okay. Things were only going to go downhill from here, and it didn't matter much anymore. Or, God, was that the alcohol talking in his brain? He didn't know. As Rosemund spread the trays of desserts over the table, he grabbed his wine glass and took a large gulp.

"Looks like your son has taken to drinking," the Duchess giggled to the Queen. This made Aire want to smash the glass over the Duchess' head, and for fear that he would, he quickly rose and made his way to the ballroom where guests were already starting to arrive while others stuck around the dining hall for desserts.

He immediately made his way to the throne and sat upon the horribly uncomfortable piece of furniture. So far, nobody had made their way to visit with him, and he was just fine with that. He propped an elbow upon the armrest, and then propped his head upon his hand.