Squall wandered over to the lounge and sat heavily in one of the free seats at the bar. He was disoriented, though he was at least a practiced hand at pretending to know exactly what was going on. Someone asked him what he wanted to drink; he muttered something noncommittal and received something he hoped wasn't alcoholic.

It was green. Squall took a sip, then decided he didn't like it.

Instead, he took a look around the room, hoping for something to clue him in on what was going on. Or at least figure out how to blend in better, because for now Squall looked like exactly what he was: a moody teenager dressed in an inappropriately warm fur-lined jacket and also like five belts or something.