To be fair, her heart wavered from his melancholic calls of her name along with the inaudible slurs.
'Damn, this man is drunk as fuck. There he goes with the accent,'she pondered, then replied, "What do you want Tyler?"
"Wha—the meaning o' news? You did theez!"
"No way—"
Tyler cut her off, and clicked his tongue before slurring again, "Don' get cocky… You never get dizz fah withou' me!"
"I have enough of your mind games, Tyler. I'm giving up on you."
Nathalie turned it off; to her, it was too much. This time, she ought to draw the line.
For her sake.
To her room, she entered and turned on the lights. Her room had a purple spare bed, a nightstand with adjacent vanity, and few ornamental plants into a golden glow.
Nathalie shuffled across her room and placed the manuscripts on the organized study desk she had. Her fingers swabbed on its surface.
Indeed, it was clean.
Much the same before she left.
