"Well, come upstairs to my room and tell me what your problem is," I muttered, my voice low enough to stay under the radar of the rowdy crowd.
"Your room?" A deep frown creased Joyce's forehead, her eyes darting around the inn. "Can't we... go somewhere else?"
"Not happening," I responded flatly. I didn't wait for her consent; I just turned and started up the stairs, my hands folded behind my head in a posture of complete indifference. "Are you coming or not?"
I heard an irritated growl behind me, followed by the heavy thud of Joyce's boots. She was following.
We reached my room, and I pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter. I walked past her to close the windows; the orange glow of the setting sun was fading, and the creeping chill of the coming dawn was already beginning to bite. Joyce stood squarely in the doorway, her face a clash of pure fury and a deep, betraying crimson blush.
"Are you planning to stand there all night?" I asked, eyeing her.
