She was talking to herself.
So why did this stranger even think he was welcome here, close to her?
“Pretty princess, hello? I’m talking to you,” he pestered.
Valeria sighed loudly.
She opened her eyes and turned around to face him with the glass of vodka raised between their chests.
Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips into a thin line to avoid cackling. The man before her smiled, showing off his yellow crooked teeth.
His teeth weren’t what was funny to her; it was something else. Her gaze lowered and she noticed his shoes, they had holes in them—big round holes at the top.
Was he a beggar? No, the club didn't even allow an average looking man in here. So who was this guy?
"Well, hello to the descendant of Ursula. You need no DNA." She jeered, eyeing his shoes openly.
"Sorry?
