Claim your ticket to freedom, little halfling.

No one could throw a party like Michael. It might not be just as grandiose as how Marcus does it nor how formal as Vincent's, but it was always fun and wild. Each of his guests knew that if it was Michael, they could do anything without fear of getting caught.

It almost became a saying now among the socialites: whatever happens at Michael's party, stays in there. This explains the bold acts of drinking, smoking, taking pills, casual hookups, and all sorts of things that none of them would openly do in other places.

"Hey!" Michael energetically jumped on the corner where Anton was hiding. "What are you doing here? Tell me."

Anton frowned, looking at the party animal beside him. "I'm drinking."

"Just drinking?"

"Yeah. Just drinking."

"Oh, come on, man! What the hell is wrong with you?" Michael casually took out a small box from his pocket and handed it to him. "Here. Take it."