rainfall
The Peter Tingle
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Emerson Albrecht
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Emerson nodded in agreement at his speculations. It seemed as though no one was to be trusted with that kind of logic. Her eyes fell to the drink he offered and she graciously took it from him, her fingers just barely brushing by his in an accidental touch. Her cheeks felt hot, though she hoped the heat had yet to visibly tint her face. In an attempt to deflect from her bashfulness, she found herself smirking.
"You know," she sighed. "Who's to say these drinks haven't already be tampered with?"
She lifted the drink to her mouth, placing the cold edge of the cup against her bottom lip.
"Hmm, should we be daring and risk it?"
Despite herself, she was feeling awfully bold.