Roselyn Mercer smiled gracefully, and less than three minutes after the waiter noted it down, the dishes were served.
"This meal's on me! Liam Moore, lift your head."
Roselyn Mercer originally thought Christopher Moore was actually on a date with a woman. But when she got closer, damn, it was a man.
Liam Moore weakly lifted his head, looking completely aggrieved, like a neglected lady in a deep boudoir.
"The appearance is good, but those leg hairs give you away, and your prominent Adam's apple? Are you worried people won't realize you're a weirdo?"
Roselyn Mercer seemed like she'd swallowed gunpowder. In the past, she wouldn't have bothered, but who told someone to put a green hat on her?
"And you, how dare you laugh? A woman who's been with another man for a night? Four years ago? Still afraid to face me?"
The more Roselyn Mercer spoke, the angrier she got, but she still maintained that graceful demeanor. Public shouting was too disgraceful.
