"Whiskey. And leave the bottle." Her voice was about as smoky as her cigarette. And those eyes of hers seemed to be checking the corners of the room. The shadows around her appeared darker than the shadows of other people. Inky-black and almost... alive.
Her nostrils flared. Zoroka wasn't sure where she should go from here. Her mother... it had been years... would they even recognize one another?
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