Not Too Much Change

"If you want girls, trust me, dancing like a retired mummy is not where to start from."

Aldrich's interruption cut through Trevor's so-called dance moment, and he couldn't be happier that he did.

What Trevor was doing was nothing short of committing high treason to all the respectable dancers out there.

That is if one were to even loosely associate it with dancing.

"Aldrich, my man! I was beginning to worry you wouldn't show up!"

*Believe me, I almost didn't."

Trevor's breath was thick with the stench of alcohol, and his movements were wobbly at best.

He was drunk, excruciatingly so, and that explained the half-baked steps he was calling dance moves.

Aldrich, however, suspected that even without the alcohol, Trevor would still be this bad at dancing.

He had no real visual comparison of Trevor's dance moves outside of this drunken stupor, but the assumption stood.

Trevor was just that bad.