My Pretty Dirty Kitten
He laughs, nodding like this is something I should've known from the second I saw her, and if I recall she mention something about siblings but I was busy staring daggers into Dmitry to understand what she meant.
“Yeah. We’re triplets. Me, Roxanne, and Rhonda.”
I look between them, my gaze flicking back and forth. They don't have any similarities, if not for their eyes—which Braide's is darker—I’d never guess. Everything else is different, their hair, lips shape. Even their attitude. They could pass as partners, easily.
“Oh.”
That’s all I manage.
I want to ask how they know Dmitry. Want to dig, want answers. But I swallow it down. It’s not my business, anyways.