Far from that isolated room—too far to hear shouts, threats, or the treacherous sound of Jenga pieces being pulled—a completely different atmosphere reigned.
Laughter. Clinking glasses. Bottles sweating on the table.
The drinks table was crowded: Ada, Raphaeline, Stella, Roxanne, Viviane, Zex, Irídia, and Morgana occupied the space as if it were sacred territory. Human alcohol flowed freely—and, surprisingly, it was pleasing.
"HAH!" Zex slammed the empty Corona bottle on the table hard enough to get attention. "That's great! We really know what we're doing with alcohol." She leaned forward. "But back to the point… do you really think everything's alright?"
"Yes," Ada replied with her usual calmness, swirling her glass slowly. "Vergil knows what he's doing." She gave a half-smile. "He still has three days."
