The night had softened slightly by the time Aniela returned to the bar, the distant hum of traffic echoing faintly through the streets. The neon sign flickered overhead, casting a faint pink glow on the wet pavement. She carried a small cup in her hand, the liquid sloshing gently as she walked back toward Kafziel, who was still leaning against the tree, bottle of water in hand.
“Here,” she said softly, extending the cup toward him. “Drink this.”
He blinked up at her, brow furrowed. “What… in it?” he asked, suspicion threading through his voice. His hand reached out, hesitated, and then curled around the cup.
“It’s… a special hangover drink,” she said with a faint grin. “Guaranteed to make you feel slightly less awful.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged and tilted his he
