Moana
When I opened my door, all I could smell was alcohol.
Edrick was standing in the hallway. He was swaying slightly back and forth, his steely eyes unfocused in front of me. Even though it seemed he only just got home, he already had a glass of whiskey in his hand -- he must have filled it as soon as he came in the door.
“Why aren’t you in my room?” he grumbled, his breath reeking of whiskey.
I took a step back, scrunching up my nose from the smell. “I waited for you for two hours, but you never came,” I replied. “I assumed you wouldn’t be home tonight.”
Edrick was silent for several moments before speaking: “Well, I’ll sleep in here, then.” Before I could stop him, he pushed past me and into my room.
“How much have you had to drink?” I asked, closing the do
