Life goes on

I gazed at Killian, who was nursing his wounded pride with a generous swig of whiskey. The glass emptied in one go, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his dramatic display of defiance. He looked like a scolded little puppy, eyes cast down, lips pursed in a pout that somehow managed to be both endearing and comical.

"You look sad," I teased, leaning against the nearest wall.

Killian shot me a side-eyed glance, a mix of irritation and resignation in his ashy eyes. "You think I'm a sore loser, don't you?"

I let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over my heart. "I never said such thing."

He huffed, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I think so."

I couldn't argue with that assessment. So I leaned closer. "You know, Killian, there's a way to find out if you're truly a sore loser or not."

His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "And what might that be?"

I grinned, grabbing his hand and examining his palm with exaggerated seriousness. "Palm reading, my dear. Your fate lies in the l