[Cherryblod doesn't go to the afterparty right away. It's easy to find him, though - he's in his room, 22, and the door is halfway open, enough to see and hear what he's doing if anyone cares to investigate.
He has one of the cherry blossom bouquets from the vending machine, and he's ripping it apart - cracking branches, tearing blossoms to pieces.
It's something. Not much, but something.
After a while, when he's a little calmer, he'll join the others at the bar, and wordlessly pour himself a stiff drink.]
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He has one of the cherry blossom bouquets from the vending machine, and he's ripping it apart - cracking branches, tearing blossoms to pieces.
It's something. Not much, but something.
After a while, when he's a little calmer, he'll join the others at the bar, and wordlessly pour himself a stiff drink.]