“Are you okay? Is it the hit from the storm still bothering you?" Ana snaps her head up, her hand moving to the drink as she hums, studying the bartender.
“Hm? Oh um,” she pauses, her pupils dilating.
Fucking hell, she could practically see every fucking vein, heat pouring from the blood and onto her skin.
“Um yep, yeah the storm,” the French girl nods, forcing her eyes to her glass.
“The storm…” she exhaled sharply, bringing the glass to her lips, begging anyone who would listen to take this feeling away.