"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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"Well, I-" Cristóbal cut himself off when sudden movement on the dance floor caught his eye. It looked like someone had fallen down, and he made a brief move away from the snack table as if to go lend a hand before the guy stood back up. Oh. Well. He seemed okay? Irene was over there, dancing around and clinging to the guy now, so it seemed she'd found a fitting date.

Hopefully they wouldn't hurt themselves, each other, or anybody around them. The possibility wasn't at all out of the question with Irene.

"Sorry," He sent one last glance at the scene on the dance floor before turning back to Rene. "I'm here with friends, but they went to dance."

Cristo glanced over at Alessio. He'd chimed back in but still seemed out of it. He could try to include Al in the conversation more, but maybe he just didn't really want to be bothered. It was difficult to gauge his mood with the dim lighting and Al mostly stuffing his face instead of talking. If Cristo's guess was right and Al had had a swing and miss with a date before the dance, he wasn't sure he wanted to dredge that up.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Bohemian Purgatory · At the Dance