The sound around him quieted down, transforming from noisy clamor to a gentle murmur, and the lights turned intoxicating, creating a sense of dizzying opulence.
Sylvan Cheney felt a bit of restlessness surfacing; he put down his glass, intending to pour himself a cup of iced lemon water.
His head pounded intensely, somewhat beyond his control.
Just as he took a step, the heat within his body flared like a fire, blazing up fiercely, rushing straight to his chest.
He had already taken off his suit jacket, and now he simply tugged at his tie, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt collar.
However, it didn't alleviate the heat in his body at all, as if something was constricting his chest.
Every cell in his limbs and bones seemed to be boiling, roaring, and howling.
His blood flowed backwards, making him feel uncomfortable all over.
Did he drink too much?
Sylvan Cheney held his forehead, pushed Erin Janus away, his gaze somewhat intoxicated: "I'm stepping out for a bit."
