The Next Morning.
Saoirse stood like a judge about to pronounce a sentence, a cold smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she stared down at Veil. "So, still feeling impulsive?"
Veil swallowed hard, clearly guilty, and quickly shook his head. "Not anymore."
She glanced down, her tone sharp. "Your hand?"
Like a scolded child, Veil obediently pulled his hand back from under the blanket, flashing a sheepish grin. "Come on, Saoirse, don't be like that. You've got happiness right in the palm of your hand now. No need to mess it up."
"Oh, really?" Saoirse narrowed her eyes and slowly clenched her hand. "You were pretty bold last night, weren't you? You even pointed a gun at my father. What was that about? Were you planning to kill him too? He may have his faults, but he's still my parent."
Veil shifted away slightly, wincing, a bitter smile on his face. "Didn't you say before how he kept pushing you into blind dates? That kind of pissed me off, you know?"
