"Don't pinch me, I didn't say anything wrong, you're just getting old," Jasmine Yale stared at his face, her fair little hand pointing towards the cabinet, "That there is the evidence. You know what evidence is, right?"
She was drunk, her cheeks flushed red.
Her alcohol tolerance had always been poor, and the effects of the alcohol she had just consumed were now hitting her full force.
Sylvan Cheney frowned and followed the direction of her hand.
It was then that he realized his bedroom was a total mess, just like after a burglar had been in.
His eyes moved to what she was pointing at.
The bedding that he had stored in the cabinet was now tossed out by her.
It had originally been bought to take care of her business, but now it had become the basis of her teasing him.
Jasmine Yale laughed, looking at him with a grin, "You've got nothing to say now, right? You're old, or else why wouldn't you use it up in a year. Old man, you're no good, old man, you're no good..."
