The idea of Brendon and Spencer ultimately taking the band name was something Ryan at first very strongly opposed. In fact he hadn't heard about it until after the fact, and he didn't really [i]get[/i] it because they weren't Panic anymore, were they? But it made sense the more he thought about it. First of all - although the two remaining members probably didn't care about it that much - it carried all the recognition and fame. It was more difficult to make fans follow you to your next band, and therefore there was no guarantee you'd have even half the success of the old band. Second, they were playing the most similar music to what Panic had initially sounded like, or at least that's what the direction they were headed in seemed like. It's not like the two albums already out were totally cohesive, but they flowed in an odd way, separate but equal worlds. Ryan's ever-changing inspiration and style didn't seem to fit that narrative. So, he didn't harbor any negativity over that aspect of the split, either.

Despite being sort of shocked at seeing Brendon again without expecting him at all (or at least not by himself, and not out of nowhere), just a first glance at him alone was enough to make every old feeling resurface. Maybe not [i]entirely,[/i] not at quite the strength they'd been before, but still - Ryan could remember the times when it only took Brendon entering the room for his mood to instantly improve a substantial amount. Or when he'd feel a sort of loss whenever he was somewhere without Brendon at his side (and the recurrence of him wondering what Brendon was doing, how he was, etc). Or the way Brendon looked when Ryan woke up beside him and before him, having separated from clinging together the night before, with his eyelashes dark against his skin and his expression peaceful and his breathing steady. Really, it was weird to have known him so intimately and now only feel it appropriate to treat him with just... politeness. Like the past was no big deal. Ryan consoled himself with the idea that maybe he'd get over it in a couple more months.

But, apparently, Ryan was the only one who felt such reservations. For the past two minutes all Brendon had done was flatter him and flirt, which was nice and all, but Ryan didn't know what boundaries had been established by the passage of time. Was Brendon just drunk and didn't really mean any of it? He was pretty well-coordinated and didn't seem to be slurring, so it sounded like he was just slightly ahead of Ryan in terms of alcohol consumed thus far. It occurred to him that he was actually familiar with how a tipsy Brendon worked, and, yeah, he totally lost his filter. Ryan wasn't sure whether he should respect sober Brendon's probable wish that he hadn't approached Ryan at all, or if he should just give in to the charm. Mostly, though, Ryan was very susceptible to the glass of what'd [i]basically[/i] been rum with a dash of Coke mixed in, so he couldn't bring himself to come up with the right thing to do in this situation. 

He was forced to instead rely on whatever words came out without a connection to his brain, which could only feasibly be slightly more embarrassing than how he normally talked - he doubted he could get any worse. [i]No, I crashed the party.[/i] Ryan was gullible enough in the moment to almost give him an 'are you crazy' look before he read Brendon's grin. And was taken aback by it, kind of. He had yet to meet someone with a better smile than Brendon, actually. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't've come in the first place. [i]Yeah, I was. Me, Spencer... Dallon.[/i] So Spencer was here. Ryan's face briefly betrayed him while he nodded, a hint of longing to see his old best friend again, but he didn't even know what they would talk about or how they would reconnect in the middle of a busy party. The thought passed quickly. This new name, Dallon, however, preyed on Ryan's natural insecurity for half a second where he thought maybe Brendon had found someone else already - and then he realized he was an idiot, because of course Brendon wouldn't be acting the way he was if he was exclusive with someone.

[i]Thank you. I try.[/i] Didn't sound like he was listening, actually. Ryan kind of laughed at his lack of focus, bringing his glass up to cover his amusement, just as Brendon decided he had to be tactile again. Ryan considered it for a second, then finally finished the drink hovering before his lips and abandoned it on the nearest available surface beside Brendon's mask. [i]You’re so [/i]tall.[i] Fuck [/i]me. The look on Brendon's face read like he was being wholly serious, but Ryan only forced another small laugh, not sure how to react to all of this still. Part of him, the stupidest part at that, wanted to say something like '[i]you're[/i] the one who broke up with [i]me[/i]'; the other wanted to take the risk that Brendon wouldn't even want anything serious again and just go with his flirtatious behavior. [i]Kidding.[/i] That was too long a pause, Ryan decided, and then he wasn't thinking at all. [b]"Are you, though? I mean, it wouldn't be the first time."[/b] He returned Brendon's smile, a little more conspicuously, and promptly lost the nerve to hold eye contact after saying [i]that.[/i] 

Still. He'd decided not to care about the possible implications behind all of this and thanked the gradually more effective Bacardi. [b]"I didn't know you had such a thing for tall guys,"[/b] he said speculatively, and realized distantly that he'd been fixing his normally godawful posture ever since Brendon first commented on his height. Definitely screwed. [b]"Glad you do, because I think you're gorgeous."[/b] He managed to look at Brendon longer than three seconds this time, truly meaning it, and barely holding back from saying 'still' before 'think.' That'd definitely shift the mood, right? He had no idea. In any case it felt like he needed to get even with Brendon quickly, and he had plenty of things to say, just none of the nerve to say any of it to his face. Not fair - Brendon had no problem literally saying '[i]fuck me[/i]' like that and Ryan felt awkward following in Cady Heron's footsteps telling him his hair looked sexy pushed back, or something.