Zion did not look too well after yesterday. He was paler than usual and still not appropriately dressed, with his unbuttoned shirt revealing his surprisingly toned abs.
I could have sworn that his eyes darkened as they travelled up and down my frame, lingering on the military jacket that Ruhn had given me.
I wondered how much of the previous night he remembered. He was so drunk that it was possible he would only remember some fragments of the recent events. And I hoped that those would be favourable to me.
It did not go well both times we spoke recently, and I simply hoped that he did not misinterpret everything he saw now. Not that he was supposed to care, but I wanted him to respect me.
Slightly hesitant at first, I waved my hand at him, acknowledging his presence. It was probably
