The four of them huddled together, their misty forms overlapping as they engaged in a silent, high-speed exchange of thoughts. Thomas watched them, his heart still thudding against his ribs. He had turned the blame back on them, but he could tell there was something they weren't saying. Their anger had turned into a strange, frantic desperation.
"How much do you recommend?" Alley asked, stepping forward. "We still want to drink. A lot."
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "This can't just be about the taste, Alley. You are all powerful individuals. You wouldn't risk five days of unconsciousness just for a pleasant flavour. Why don't you share what you truly experienced?"
Angel cleared her throat, her silhouette flickering with a rhythmic light. "Your drinks did something marvellous to us, Joker. But information has a price. Do you think we'll hand over our findings for free?"
