Ice Cream (1)

Scott’s been complaining about how painful his wound is. I didn’t listen to him and continue dabbing the cotton ball that is soaked with alcohol, to the point that it’s dripping down my wrist.

“You should have squeezed the excess liquid,” mumbled Scott as I held his chin firmly so he won’t move around while I am tending his cut.

“Guide him to the conference room and prepare some refreshments. Bring it to my office afterwards.”

I look up to Nicholas’ direction when I heard him speak. He was on a phone call. I saw him gaze at our direction. “I’ll be there in five.”

“Are you going to meet Mr. Giordano now?” I heard Scott inquire. Nicholas nod a reply as he picked up his coat and swiftly inserted his left arm on the sleeve, next the other. He buttoned down the second button before fixing his tie.

I watched him attentively as he fixed his already neatly brushed hair. He looks more refined and mature in his appearance now.

“Ems, he’ll melt you know,” I quickly turned to face Scott when he w