Sheril's head whipped toward Logan. She frowned and said, "No, we're not dancing anymore!"
He had sprained his ankle, so dancing would only aggravate the injury!
What was the big deal about suffering a little mockery anyway?
Logan, however, had a frosty look on his face. Then, before he could say anything, Nora stood up and said lazily, "Of course, she's dancing. Why wouldn't she?"
Taken aback, Sheril looked at her.
Logan rotated his ankle a little. The sprained area was already starting to go numb. He was about to speak when a young man who looked about 22 or 23 years old suddenly emerged from the crowd. He looked bright and cheerful and had big eyes and thick brows. His hair was dyed olive green.
Isaac Young grabbed Logan's arm and demanded, "Do you have a death wish, Logan?"
Logan frowned. "Let go of me! Leave me alone!"
