The Mid-Levels was brightly lit.
Preston Keaton had a social engagement today, so he returned a little late.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window, he could faintly make out a small figure sitting under the soft light. Even if he couldn't see her clearly, he could sense the waves of anger emanating from the tiny silhouette.
Evelyn Grant was playing a game with Liam Aldrin.
Her teammate was a total noob she couldn't carry, and he kept feeding the enemy team. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw Preston Keaton, and her resentment intensified.
They were playing on voice chat, and Liam Aldrin was swearing a blue streak. Evelyn Grant, feeling a little embarrassed, muted her mic. Her attention returned to the game, her lovely brows furrowed as she scowled.
Preston Keaton handed his coat to a servant. Just as he reached out to pull her onto his lap, the young woman anticipated his move and scooted to the far corner of the sofa.
"…"
