[REAPER'S]
Hera whistled a tune, lying leisurely on the couch. She tilted her head from side to side, eyes closed. Elliot, who was trying to memorize every profile she handed him, glanced at her.
"Hera," he called, but she didn't react. "Are you high?"
Hera slowly opened her eyes, and her whistling stopped. "I don't do drugs."
"Are you sure?"
"You touched so many drugs than the Interpol confiscated," he remarked. "Are you sure you're not high at the moment?"
"Haha." Hera closed her eyes again, chuckling. "I tried one or two in the past, just out of curiosity. Never again."
"Do I need to believe you?"
"I don't care what you believe," she replied nonchalantly. "But if you think the chemists who cook drugs use them, you better rethink your entire life and career. They make it because the money comes in."
"Do you believe that those people don't use them just because they know they're harmful?"
