Layleen
"Excuse me?" My eyes widen as I try to decipher what she meant by that remark.
Samantha lifts an eyebrow, as if baffled by my confusion. "The moon," she says, then gestures toward my hair, her grin widening. "Your silver hair, your eyes––you look like the moon."
She lets out an awkward chuckle, and it finally clicks—she isn't that great at joking. Noted. But I suppose that should be the least of my concerns right now.
"Do you drink?" she asks abruptly, reaching for the wine bottle again. Before I can fully process the question, she's already working the cork loose, her movements practiced and efficient.
"I… yes, I do," I answer cautiously, watching as she expertly wedges the room key into the cork and twists.
"Great!" Samantha exclaims as the bottle opens with a satisfying pop. "I enjoy drinking, but the longer I do it alone, the more I start to think I might have a problem."
