Her human mate
But before she could ask what he meant, she found herself turning back to watch the escapade.
For a second, she felt bad for the poor woman, who still adamantly declined to take the stage and sing. She obviously didn’t want to sing. But then the woman stood. Maybe she would get up there after all.
Aravella reached for her beer, took a sip, and, for the first time tonight, felt a little normal. The atmosphere seemed to envelop her, as if she was meant to be there. A much-needed sense of contentment filled her. The talking, the laughter, the smell of drinks and salty, roasted peanuts. It made her feel oddly better. This was a good idea-a good distraction. Tomorrow she’d return to her research
Bab Populer