, hearing the words "spiked," Nathan Moore suddenly turned back and looked at Titus Zane’s face, his handsome face showing obvious surprise, his obsidian eyes widened to appear...cute.
Although he did not touch it, he clearly understood the meaning of "spiked". Some self-despairing women always used it to numb themselves wanting to speak out to stop, but, his throat felt like it was choked, unable to speak, he could only watch helplessly as Titus Zane slammed several large bills on the bar, which the Bartender quickly tucked away, then stealthily surveyed the surroundings while making discreet moves behind the bar.
A glass of wine was placed again in front of Titus Zane; because of the added "stuff," the red liquid had tiny bubbles forming. After taking a drag of smoke and exhaling, Titus Zane grabbed the glass and shook it, the practiced move resembling that of a veteran.
"You... still doing this?" Nathan spoke up, his handsome face showing an indescribable emotion, his tone hesitant, strained, and husky.
Titus Zane was not avoiding it, picking up the tall glass and continuing to swirl it, his gaze fixed on a small, hardly noticeable solid at the bottom of the glass, "Sometimes I try it; it helps with sleep."
He had never heard that methamphetamine helped with sleep; he picked up the glass and slowly sipped the wine, his obsidian eyes unconsciously narrowing, the scene before him once again updated the impression Titus Zane held in his heart.
This woman, what had she gone through these three years?
And how did she sustain her life; was it through men? It didn’t seem like it.
Nathan Moore found the woman before him somewhat incomprehensible.
Although they were physically close, they felt distant, as if separated by a thin veil, completely opaque to each other.
The tiny particle at the bottom of the glass completely dissolved, Titus Zane raised her head slightly to sip, her tongue gently licking her lips as if savoring the taste of the particle, took another drag of smoke, exhaled, and took another sip of wine.
The bad habit of women smoking and drinking often repels men.
Now, with a cigarette between Titus Zane’s slender fingers and a glass of wine in her other hand, sipping wine then taking a drag, although the scene was undesirable and decadent, Titus Zane made it look so attractive, unintentionally exuding an enticing charm.
Nathan Moore’s expression was somewhat dazed, the woman before him like a blooming poppy, beautiful and dangerous, yet possessing an irresistible allure to men.
"Drink this glass, and let’s head back," Nathan’s voice became melancholic, "I’ll take you, it’s safer."
Perhaps the effect of the additive in the wine was taking hold; propped up at the bar, Titus Zane’s lips curled into a smile, her gaze hazy and her head swaying as if restless.
"No need for trouble, it’s very convenient to get a ride now." Titus Zane continued swaying, took another drag, her eyes gradually narrowing as she slowly exhaled, the scene resembling that of a drug-user indulging.
"Titus Zane..." Nathan Moore tentatively called, his handsome face overtaken by deep concern, "Are you alright?"
"I’m fine, I’ll go back after this drink, don’t worry..." Titus Zane raised her hand, not looking at him, her tone lazy but otherwise sounding normal, at least coherent.
Nathan Moore quietly sighed out, his heart a mixture of emotions.
After taking a small sip of wine, next to him, a cigarette had already been smoked by Titus Zane, tossed aside as she grabbed the tall glass, tilted her head back and gulped down half a glass in one go, grabbed her purse, hopped off the high stool, and walked towards the club exit in her high heels.
While walking, she waved her hand behind without turning back.