7
Drinks at the Last Chance, that was what she needed to chase away her unexpected bad mood. The dark wood paneling and intimate lighting matched her inner sourness.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” she told her brother as he poured her a brandy with cream. “Kind of London tavern circa the Jack the Ripper era.”
“Aaaaand this is why you should never get into marketing.” He pushed the shot glass across the bar toward her. “Drink up so you can stop bumming out my customers with your sad face emoji.”
She took a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol spread heat throughout her body. “It’s not working. I’m still in a bad mood.”
“I know what the problem is. You’re not used to relaxing. If you’re not saving lives and dodging bullets you don’t know what to do with yourself.” He left to
