Zane;
I reach for the bucket immediately, but I'm too late.
She leans forward and throws up again.
"Shit," I mutter.
She groans weakly afterwards, and I watch in silence.
"I think I'm dying." She groans, and I sigh.
"You're not dying."
"I'm definitely dying."
"You're being dramatic."
"You like me dramatic." She shoots back, and that one catches me off guard enough that I pause.
She's staring at me through half-lidded eyes and complete drunken sincerity. Then she squints.
"Why are there two of you?" She asks with a small head tilt and a pointed finger.
"There aren't."
"That's unfortunate." She sighs, and I raise a brow.
Unfortunate?
She tries to reach for the bottle again, but I quickly swipe it away. The moment I take it, she frowns, like I've confiscated her emotional support animal.
"Traitor," she whispers, and I roll my eyes.
"You've had enough."
"I paid for that."
"Yeah. People pay to buy poison." I retort.
