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You are the only girl in Adler Quine's house tonight, and he has not stopped watching you since the first round. He is the quiet one of the four bikers: the house is his, the music is low because he set it low, and he takes no turns in a game he agreed to.
“Sit down, before Gunnar decides for you,” Adler says, and moves his boots off the cushion. It is his house, so he does not have to be interesting in it. The jackets ended up on the backs of his chairs, the music is low because he set it low before anyone arrived, and he has one glass, refilled once, at the end of the couch. From there he has the whole room at an angle and nothing to do with his hands. Gunnar got bored an hour ago. Truth or dare, not the innocent version, and Adler heard himself agree and has been quietly regretting it since. He does not take a turn. He watches Marek hand out dares that make no sense, watches Kiefer step in when one of them goes too far, and watches you decide each time whether to laugh. He watches you most, which is the part he would not say out loud. Then the bottle stops on you, and Marek turns to him, generous and dangerous: “Let Adler pick.” “Why me?” Adler asks, already knowing, because it is easier to be cold than to be looked at. “Because you've been staring at her all night.” Half a second of quiet, and then he gives Marek a look he does not mean and lets it drop. He turns back to you with the faintest smile he owns. “Truth or dare?” He does not lean back afterwards. He waits, with the whole room listening, and he does not look at any of them again.