◤𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕪◢ - It Started With Vomit!

Chapter 34 | A Smoke and a Glass

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"You smoke?" Amy asked, inching into Shadow's unlocked bedroom before shutting the door. It was quiet, smelling herbaceous and woody with an underlining scent of ashtrays, very unlike the man she knew and spent time around. Yet, for some intriguing reason, uncovering her fiance's private pass time did not dissuade Amy from entering the space; it had only made the room wickedly intimate.

"You're still awake?"

"As you can see, I could not sleep." 

"I can't imagine why," Shadow replied sarcastically. "After all, you missed much of tonight's excitement."

"If we're going to discuss my missing anything, my lack of exhaustion should be attested to your departure without me."

Disproving the insinuations of Shadow's cynical comment, Amy set the tray occupying her hands on a rosewood center table and collected its contents before moving to the verandah where she might join him. 

"That's the thanks I get for releasing you from an uncomfortable situation?"

"Yes."

Amy felt her face blaze slightly upon noticing Shadow's burly chest come into view, his dark skin peeking from the sanctuary of a red silk material. Then, as she drew even closer, once healthy knees buckled, causing her to almost plunge a bottle of wine and mug into the ground, had Shadow not gingerly stabilized her unsteady form. 

"Whoa!" Amy giggled, and Shadow grumbled, dreading the ocean of red that could've spilled in consequence of Rose's casual carelessness. "That was a close call."

Senselessness was in her nature, it would seem. In everything Rose did, indulgence proved imperative, therefore, she knew no restrictions, leading Shadow to expect from her nothing less than mature comportment.

"May I ask how often you have these?" he inquired, inspecting Amy's body with superfluous concern. After all, somebody has to do it—take care of her—because she certainly wouldn't. The woman was a hazard to herself.

Shadow lifted her arms. They weren't lacerated, neither were her feet. Her ankles seemed fine; she wasn't limping nor exhibiting an unnatural gait. 

Discomfited by his intimate concern,"Now and then," Amy answered speedily, immediately leaping from his grasp. After successfully placing set items on the balcony table next to his silver, antique smoking case, "I drink ever so often, now and then," she iterated, more out of nervousness than conscientious reason.

"Right..." Shadow's chest squeezed. He tried not to think much of it.

Popping open a cork using the table's sharp edge then pouring herself a mug-full of wine, Amy sighed dramatically. "Not that it's a competition but, in the grand scheme of things, red wine is far healthier than whatever you're ingesting." 

"Pardon?" Shadow stared at her, confused as to why she should care. Moreover, why was she even here tonight? "Should I put it away?" he asked, exhaling what might very well be his last grey cloud. Then, as if to say something earnest—"Of course," perhaps,—Amy's lips pulled back to reveal her tongue before settling on: "If that's what you really want." 

After some minutes in silence, Amy remained restless, unable to quite control her curiosity. Between intermittent intervals, as they both sat in silence, listening only to city noises and ocean lapses resounding below, she would glance at Shadow, unnerving him. 

"You look like you need one."

"I have never!" Amy blurted out, wearing a maternal expression. 

He dropped his cigar right away.