"I wonder who will she pick tonight? You, her best friend for the longest time, or her other friend, Michael?"
Kenzo knitted his brows and asked, "You know Michael?"
But the answer he was expecting didn't come. Instead, he watched Quentin lift his hand and point his fingertips at him.
"Out," Quentin whispered and, like a switch, Kenzo stopped moving altogether.
Kenzo felt like his entire body was glued to the chair, only his eyes were moving.
"Interesting," Quentin rocked his head. "You retained consciousness. No wonder I smell Turstin from you. You met him today?"
Kenzo wanted to ask what was going on or what did Quentin do to him. But alas, he couldn't even open his mouth. All he could do was stare at him with wide, shaky eyes.
Quentin smiled subtly, staring at him as if he was simply admiring a painting. "How pitiful, isn't it, Kenzo?"
