Manon
This was fun. Then it wasn't. That's not like Niccoló at all. It doesn't even sound like him.
I uncuff him from the bed, sorrowfully. He opens his eyes.
Now that I'm looking, they are a little red. A little blood shot.
“Are you okay, Nic? You sound... different.”
He shrugs.
I frown. “Do you need anything?”
“To be honest, a f*****g beer would be nice. Right about now. Can you get that for me?”
And even though that would normally make me bristle, I actually button up his shirt, go downstairs, and get him a beer.
Because damnit, it seems like he really needs it.
I open it, handing it to him. He nods. “Thank you.”
Does it he even say thank you? I...he just..
He drinks it down. He doesn't drink beer. He only drinks wine. Italian wine. Chilled. Not cold. He's particular about t
