THE GASTROPUB is abuzz with life, from the people casually talking and laughing on their tables, to the waiters moving around and delivering food to the clients.
Even though the scent of meat, veggies, and spices is filling the air, beckoning at me to have a taste, my appetite isn't exactly at its peak right now. Mostly because I'm sitting across Jerald. He isn't glaring at me and making me uncomfortable, but any normal being would be considering what took place yesterday.
A waiter dressed in black and white places a glass of water in front of me. That's all I could order after being asked what I wanted to eat. My throat is dry, probably from the uncertainty of what's about to transpire, though some of it is because of the anger.
