Andrew and Carol sat next to the bristling fireplace, it was the source of the only light under the high ceilings of his penthouse, and the sparks that the fireplace let out were reflected on the floor-to-ceiling windows; he originally wanted to sit on the terrace but Carol wouldn't hear of it, it was one of the coldest nights that hit Washington DC that year.
"Let's hear it, you know you're dying to tell me," she knew how anxious he gets to blow some steam when something bothers him deeply.
She was on to something in general, but that wasn't the case this time, "I already let it all out in front of her brother, remember?" he gestured to his face with his hand meaningfully.
"…Andrew, what have you done?"
"I HIRED THE FUC*ING GIPSY TO TELL HER THAT SHE WAS GOING TO DIE, OKAY?"
