Victor snatched the milk away, "Fine, let yourself die of thirst."
"You have no sense of fairness, if words don't work, you resort to hands?" Polly Sutton grumbled as she grabbed the milk back, "If I die of thirst, you'd be an old widower."
"Polly Sutton, you..." Victor's words were cut short by his ringing phone in the room. He went to retrieve it, "You'll drive me to my grave sooner or later."
"What an accomplishment that would be." Polly followed him to the bedroom with her cup, leaning against the door frame to watch him take the call.
But as Victor finished the call, his expression changed slightly. He looked at Polly with an apologetic face after hanging up, "I've got to leave earlier than planned."
Polly paused slightly in her motion of drinking milk, then quickly returned to normal, "Okay, be safe."
Victor walked over and hugged her tightly, "I'll be back as soon as I can."
