Blanche sat on her small wooden stool, clutching the frosted glass vial like a sacred relic. Her large, intelligent eyes followed Ethan Gray as he paced around the living room, tidying up stray papers. When he showed no sign of heading toward the kitchen, her curiosity finally bubbled over.
"Mister," she chirped, her Fourrivers twang vibrating through the room. " How in blazes come you ain't making no yummy-noms?"
Ethan glanced at the sleek wall clock. It was already past 9:00 PM. "I’ve already eaten, Blanche. I had dinner with some colleagues after work."
"Oh." Blanche nodded solemnly, her tiny ponytail bobbing. Then, her expression shifted. Her brow furrowed, and she stood up, placing her hands on her hips in her classic "Bully President" stance. "Then langge—how come you didn't come
