Ramiel savored the last sip of hot tea. Momentarily, his taste buds were flooded with a pleasant tart aftertaste tainted with a hint of unnecessary sweetness. One thing the former hunter had to admit. If Vitia was good at anything besides constantly insulting him, it was brewing tea. It tasted excellent.
The vixen's talent in this field was exquisite, but she didn't seem particularly pleased. Every time Ramiel raised the cup to his lips, she stared at him with an inquisitive and sharp gaze as if she wanted to cast the worst curses on the poor man.
Ramiel put the empty cup aside. He craved more but dared not ask for more. His memories of what happened near the village were still fresh. If he could, he prefers to avoid a repeat.
