"This isn't something to joke about, Ross," Emma said sharply, her tone cutting through the low hum of chatter in the place.
She turned away and sat back down, her hands trembling slightly as she rested them on the table.
Her voice was quiet but laced with anger, barely above a whisper.
Even so, she cast a quick glance around, her eyes darting nervously from one table to the next.
To her relief, no one seemed to notice, their attention still focused on their own conversations.
"I'm not joking," Ross said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.
His voice was calm, almost lazy, as if he were discussing something as trivial as the weather.
"I can heal her. Right here, right now." He paused, letting his words sink in, his piercing gaze locking onto Emma's.
Then, he tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting into something darker, something more calculating.
