"Heading home?" Jasmine Yale started the conversation.
"I'm already driving."
"The rain is quite heavy, be careful, don't rush, it's still early."
"What are you doing?"
"Lying on the sofa watching TV, hehe." Jasmine Yale laughed, wriggling her legs under the blanket, feeling very happy inside, "Don't worry, I'm waiting for you. Since you're coming back, should I make you a late-night snack?"
"Then tell me, which is tastier, you or the late-night snack, hmm?" Sylvan Cheney's voice rose teasingly at the end, his lips curving into a wicked smile.
Jasmine Yale was taken aback for a moment, then realized what he meant and her face turned red: "That's not decent."
"Wait for me."
"Mhm..." Jasmine Yale blushed and responded softly.
Sylvan Cheney hung up the phone.
He immediately called Charles Mcintosh.
"Mr. Cheney?" Charles Mcintosh had already returned from the bar. He was a fairly rational man; even when drowning sorrows in alcohol, he wouldn't get badly drunk.
