Sipping in, my tongue slurped up the poison that was accidentally mixed in this fine concoction that Calvin had offered. This time though, I fully tasted the drink, detoxifying what my senses clearly said was a deadlier version than what I had been given before. It tasted like burnt rotting rice, heavy on the nostrils, hard on the palette, soothing to the throat…
"Tell me about yourself, Calvin." I asked him.
"I'm not much different than you, I would have asked the same question if I were in your place." He drank with me, his poise unshaken.
He had a way with words, a way to do something obviously tempting and abject, something others would refuse to do at the drop of a hat.
"Aren't you on a mission?" He drank as he looked at Rachel, signalling to her that her job was done. Soon after, she flipped a coin to the ground, which was noticed by a wandering cat.
