It's very windy outside, Jasmine Yale kept her scarf wrapped around her.
The group went to fetch the car, and Jasmine stood at the hotel entrance, sheltered from the wind, waiting for them.
She blew on her hands, looking at the distant street and the white moonlight in the sky.
It's really cold here, but as the wind brushed her cheeks, much of her intoxication was blown away, and she felt much clearer.
She hadn't eaten much that evening, her stomach felt uncomfortable, and since she hadn't drunk in a long time, her whole body felt like it was being roasted on fire, her stomach burned fiercely.
The sheltered area was dim, her delicate face hidden in the light, her silhouette was all gentle and soft curves.
Her shadow fell on the ground, slender and frail.
They hadn't arrived yet, so Jasmine simply made a call home.
It was Butler Santana who answered.
"Butler Santana, has Little Clementine gone to sleep?"
"Not yet, she's playing with her toys by herself."
