"Are you gloating?"
"Pretty much."
The two exchanged a glance, then sighed together, looking out at the rain and mist outside the window. They picked up their wine glasses, clinked them lightly, and drank them down in one go.
"It seems like nobody has a perfect life," Buscalo sighed.
"A perfect life? Does such a thing really exist? I feel it only exists in books," Oscar said. "And that depends on whether the author is kind enough to write one."
"Would you write something like that?" Buscalo asked.
Oscar nodded, then shook his head, "Who knows?"
The two of them breathed the scent of alcohol. The scene before them felt quite nice, peaceful and calm. Outside, there was a thunderstorm, but inside, they were warm with fine wine.
"Happiness is indeed relative," Oscar murmured, then he turned his gaze to Buscalo.
