Angelica sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Lana was beside her, but her eyes were fixed on the man sitting in front of her where she had just been seated moments ago.
The man was also staring at her, but in a completely different way.
He shared the same red hair as Lana's, though his was streaked with a premature grey at the temples. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, revealing a pattern of intricate tattoos that writhed as he moved.
Angelica gulped; her throat felt dry no matter how many times she swallowed.
'Why am I so afraid?'
Logically, the solution was simple. She could stand up, tell him she wasn't anyone's girlfriend, and walk out.
But her voice refused to come out.
"What's this?" the man asked. He didn't look at Lana. Instead, he raised a burning cigarette toward Angelica, ash falling from the ember.
