I sit there watching him, a mixture of revulsion and curiosity in my mind, wondering if that was what I looked like when I drank, such an expert, so easy. he gestured to them, as if he wanted me to try it, part of me did, just to see what effect it would have on me.
"I can't," I say, he mouths the word wuss, "no it's not that, it's my skin, its hard and cold, knives can't cut it, falls and crashes don't break it, trust me I've tried," I mumble.
Subconciously I had picked up the bottle of wine though, tracing the rim with a finger making a melancholy sounds.
"Tell me, what do you feel for Gemme?"
He looks at me with annoyance.
"No, I'm not asking like that, I'm just, curious," I can't resist, I take a swig.
"Well, I think she's cool but, I don't know her enough and I don't just let people in that easy I-" I wasn't hearing him now, just drinking, the nector filling my throat, making me lose my problems, my worries. Forgetting.