Two Weeks Later
Oliver and Callum had returned back to London a few days ago. Tennyson was supposed to be leaving the city soon, so Oliver had gotten the chance to go out, telling everyone he had a day off and that he was supposed to meet a friend.
Well, he hadn’t really exaggerated when he’d called the person he was hoping to meet a friend.
Oliver was now comfortably sitting in the dimly-lit bar, finishing his third gin.
The truth was he wasn't sure if what they served here actually tasted like anything, though. His senses had already been dulled enough by the strong, cheap perfumes and the cigarette smoke, encompassing everything.
Oliver called the waiter for another drink and relaxed back in his chair.
He looked at the stage.
The graceful figure up there was moving beautifully,
