"Okay." Rowdy Brightwill turned his head, avoiding Flossie Wright's gaze.
Flossie Wright curled her lips, finished the last bit of her drink, and then passed the empty bottle to Rowdy Brightwill, "Go back and cry, she doesn't like it."
"Okay."
Receiving the empty bottle, Rowdy Brightwill muttered a response.
Flossie Wright lowered her eyelids, her gaze falling on that photo, the curve of her smile gradually fading away.
She couldn't quite accept this.
She was a bit annoyed.
She wasn't very happy.
But more than anything, she felt powerless.
Not having good alcohol tolerance, after a few sips of liquor, she was already drunk. So Flossie Wright's thinking wasn't too comprehensive, even a bit stuck in a dead end.
Yet once she looked at the photo, the harsh reality struck her, clearing her mind just a bit.
"Do you think she," Rowdy Brightwill suddenly turned his head, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse, "will still be picky with food?"
