My eyes are fixed on Zyke, a steady, unblinking stare.
Does he actually have something to say, or is this just another game to waste what's left of my shattered night?
Zyke pours a second glass of the dark red wine and slides it across the polished table towards me.
"Hmm. Take it."
I stare at the glass. In my real life, I never drank. Never went to clubs. Alcohol was a luxury my time and budget never allowed. I look from the glass back to his face.
"I'm fine, Brother. Just tell me why you're suddenly being so… polite. It feels wrong."
He takes a slow sip of his own wine, his eyes never leaving mine, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Wasn't it you who wanted to spend time with me? Who wanted… brotherly love?"
He savors the words, turning my own earnest plea into a taunt.
A frustrated breath escapes me, my exhaustion plain on my face. "Big Brother, I'm just tired tonight. Let's talk tomorrow." I start to rise.
"Zyren."
