"Rusell, Edward, what are you guys talking about?" As soon as Edward Woods finished speaking, Howard Coleman's drunken, slightly slurred words came through.
Rusell Henris and Edward Woods turned their heads to see Howard Coleman leaning on Steve Burton's shoulder, squeezing out of the crowd.
Usually high-cold and elegant Steve Burton, his suit jacket had long gone missing, two or three buttons undone at the collar of his white shirt, his body emitting various perfume scents.
Edward Woods poured two drinks and pushed them in front of Steve Burton and Howard Coleman: "Nothing."
Rusell glanced at the time at the bottom of the computer screen, tapped the keyboard a couple more times, then closed his laptop, saying, "It's getting late, we should leave."
