But thinking about it...
She had all sorts of luxury cars in her garage, and a cinema-grade rendering machine at home. Ultimately, he didn't ask. Perhaps everyone has different spending habits.
John had already sent a message by the time he got on the elevator.
Whoosh.
The metal sliding door opened early.
A fragrant breeze, mixed with the smell of alcohol, rushed out from the room.
Angelica hadn't turned on the lights, relying on the bizarre lights of the city outside to illuminate the corners of the room—she was wearing a cooling Stealth Suit, sitting barefoot and cross-legged on a huge curved sofa.
On the table was "pure" brandy.
It was a factory-origin drink without added stimulants or industrial treatment. Ryan once said this stuff could only be imported from Europe.
"Are you drunk, or just high..."
John entered the sunken living room, waving his hand, trying to gauge her mental state.
"Come in and chat."
