#Chapter61
Imara slammed the front door shut behind her, and Thorin rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up out of his chair. His hip dug into the doorway, and his finger pointed at his sister. /"Unless you’re planning on paying for that glass out of your own pocket, young lady, I suggest you treat the door a little kinder./"
Standing before the mirror that hung above the foyer table, she yanked the pins from her hair and flung them into the trinket bowl. /"This is as much my house as it is yours. I’ll break out every blessed window if I want to./"
With one hand on a glass of whiskey that always seemed to be empty, Thorin’s other went to his hip as he leaned against the doorway. /"I take it your evening didn’t go as expected./"
