Ro downs a mouthful of the whiskey, holding it on her tongue and letting it sink bitter and burning into her tastebuds before swallowing it; she watches, something warm in her chest at the way they relax into one another.
They look good together, she thinks. "I heard. Stop worrying about me, worry more about him."
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They look good together, she thinks. "I heard. Stop worrying about me, worry more about him."