The three of them sat down in the Lockwood family's living room. Mr. Jacobs brewed some tea and brought it out. "Miss Talbot, your favorite rose tea."
"Thank you, Mr. Jacobs. I'm surprised you still remember what I like to drink."
Shayla Talbot accepted the tea with both hands, her movements graceful and proper. It was clear she'd had a good upbringing.
Sydney Sawyer glanced down at her own mud-splattered shoes and pant cuffs. Compared to Shayla, she felt rather disheveled.
"Syd, have some grapes. They're fresh," Mr. Lockwood said with a smile, beckoning her over.
"Okay."
Sydney Sawyer nodded, plucked a grape, and popped it into her mouth.
The moment she bit into it, a wave of intense sourness flooded her mouth. She tried to control her expression, but she hadn't expected it to be *that* sour. She couldn't help but scrunch up her face, her brow furrowing in a pained look.
"Haha—" Mr. Lockwood suddenly burst out laughing. "It's really sour, isn't it!"
"It's *really* sour."
