Seated alone at the counter of the café with his hair disheveled and his clothes in disarray, Damain poured himself a glass of whiskey. With Judge Vance gone, the café was quiet and unnaturally peaceful.
He emptied the glass in one gulp and savored the burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat.
With an exhausted gasp, Damain wiped his lips. At that same moment, the door swung open and Twenty walked in. He froze at the entrance, his eyes sweeping across the place before his nose began to twitch as though he were sniffing for something in particular.
"You can just check the security footage. There is no need to act this way." Damian chuckled at his antics.
Twenty hurried over like a child promised a gift and desperate to find it. He leaned in and whispered the question.
"Did you crack her?"
"Live in front of all your hidden cameras." Damian grinned.
Twenty jolted back with excitement, then clasped Damian's hand in a loud, firm grip, his face bright with bubbling delight.
