Jefferson's POV
Javier reached toward the armrest beside him, his fingers finding a hidden compartment that revealed a small bottle of whiskey. He lifted it like he'd discovered buried treasure, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "The concept is straightforward," he announced, giving the bottle a theatrical shake. "We alternate asking questions. Nothing deeply personal - I won't be prying into whatever dark secrets you're harboring. The twist is this: every question you dodge costs you a drink."
My expression remained stone-cold as I studied him. "You forced me into this aircraft just to engage in some juvenile drinking ritual?"
Javier pressed his palm against his chest in mock wounded pride. "Juvenile? This transcends mere entertainment - it's a time-honored tradition. It's about connection, Jefferson. Perhaps you should consider experiencing it."
I fixed him with a steady stare, my tone completely flat. "You actually believe I desire to connect with you?"
