You hear yourself say yes before the careful part of you can object. The word leaves your mouth and immediately feels borrowed, bright, reckless, not entirely yours. The table erupts, plastic cups slide into formation, and for one bright second the old hunger disguises itself as courage. Laughter rises around you, warm and stupid and human, and for a moment you let yourself pretend you are only a person at a party. Elizabeth is somewhere behind you, but the room has already become louder than her concern. That should feel like freedom. It feels like drifting from a dock you have not tied off. You raise a cup you do not remember accepting. The liquid smells sharp. Your hands are steady in the wrong way, steady because adrenaline is doing the fine motor control for you. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Contest First Round|Take the first round]]