"Staying alive isn't a big issue, but leaving is not a good idea."
Yvonne Finley had already begun prepping for a meal, taking out the ingredients. She wasn't bothered by the incident the night before, working busily like a homely lady; her movements were methodical and proficient.
Caleb Baker walked over, leaning against the wall with an indolent posture; his eyes were gleaming in the light, "Should I call the police?"
"It wouldn't work," she laughed lightly.
He, like a rascal who has accepted his fate, started unbuttoning his shirt leisurely: "May I use the bathroom?"
Yesterday, he had attended a party.
Drank a lot.
He had stayed overnight at the airport, and boarded a flight to Chelsea before dawn. After waiting for a whole day, he probably had a slight fever, feeling uncomfortable all over his body, fatigued and restless. He wished to freshen up.
Yvonne Finley looked up and surveyed him seriously.
