"The sooner, the better."
In the end, Kris Cooper made sure to add these four words. These four words, spoken one by one, revealed utter dominance and an undeniable forcefulness.
The waiter nodded quickly. "Very well, sir. Would the two of you like any drinks?"
Two voices sounded simultaneously.
The one who said "no" was Kris Cooper; the one who insisted "yes" was Vera Wave.
Kris Cooper furrowed his eyebrows.
She can’t even hold her liquor; what’s she drinking for?
"Yes!" Vera insisted.
I’m already as frustrated as I can be today. Don’t they say getting drunk can drown all your sorrows? I want to get drunk too!
Kris raised an eyebrow.
The young girl’s eyebrows were arched even higher than his.
They locked eyes for a moment before he finally conceded.
"A bottle of ’96 Lafite from Bordeaux, France."
"Alright, I’ll place the order right away!"
After a polite bow, the waiter jogged off.
"Wait!" Vera hastily stood up, intending to stop him. "Never mind, I don’t want it anymore!"
Kris pulled her back down into her seat and continued applying the cold compress. "Weren’t you the one who wanted it? Why the change of heart now?"
Seriously, a ’96 Lafite! That’s right, it’s my favorite Bordeaux vintage; it’s not as astringent. But can I even afford it? This guy is obviously doing this on purpose!
Vera shot him a glare. "You ordered it, you pay!"
I used to be able to afford Lafite too, so of course, I know its value. I already owe him so much; I really don’t want to add another ten thousand to the bill!
Before Kris could answer, she turned to face him, asking, "How did you know I’d like these dishes?"
Astonishment and confusion filled the young girl’s eyes.
Has she really forgotten everything?! Kris thought, a momentary lapse in concentration causing him to unconsciously press down a bit too hard with his hand.
"AH!" Vera cried out again.
He refocused, lifting his hand to steady her head. "Be good now, don’t squirm."
The towel was thoroughly imbued with an icy chill. When he pressed it to the wound, the cold gradually numbed the throbbing nerves, and the pain seemed to recede into insignificance.
The waiter returned hurriedly, tidied the table, and set down two appetizers.
Seeing the delicacies arrive, Vera immediately grabbed her cutlery and began to eat without ceremony. Though eager, her table manners remained graceful. After all, some things are simply ingrained.
"Please enjoy your meal," the waiter said. He opened the wine, poured some for both of them, and then tactfully withdrew from the private room.
The appetizers were quickly dispatched. By the time the soup arrived, Vera had already picked up her glass and taken a sip.
"How do you know him?" Kris asked, still applying the cold compress to her injury.
"Harry Snowpine." He enunciated the name with chilling clarity, his tone suggesting he wanted to grind the man to pieces between his teeth.
How did we meet? Vera mused. "We met at a classmate’s birthday party..."
I still remember that day: he was wearing a white shirt, and standing under the lights, it was as if his whole being glowed.
Vera’s mind drifted to the past, to their first meeting in high school. A wave of powerful emotion washed over her. Raising her glass, she took a large gulp of wine.
She had never been good at holding her liquor and had drunk too quickly, causing her to choke violently.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Drink slowly!" Kris chided instinctively, reaching out his right hand to gently pat her back.
Vera’s breath hitched.
"He patted my back just like that, that day... Harry Snowpine, you colossal bastard!"
Grabbing the glass, she resumed gulping down the wine.
"I told you to drink slowly!" Kris reached out and took her glass away.