XX.torturing the saint

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Agatha eyed Genesis as he crouched down in the ground, his sleeves rolled up to his chill elbows. Agatha simply stood beside him as he arranged the boxes of ales.

"What's tha-that for, Gen?" asked her, biting her inner lip, her sapphire eyes following as he pushed the box to the side, grunting.

Genesis lifted his head for a second, flashing a playful smile before saying, "Why, for good times, of course, dear,"

Arching her brow, "For good ti-times? How?"

"Let's just say these bottles hold the power to unleash your truest side even for a night," grinning, he shot back his attention to the bottles before him, humming.

Still confused, Agatha threw another question. "Like spirits, you mean?"

Genesis nodded slowly before knitting his brows, his head averted towards her, "Yes, precisely like spirits...how'd you know that? Have you ever tried one?"

Agatha quickly shook her head, her hands waving, "I worked in a diner pa-packed with drunkard workers and tourists, Gen."

"And no, I still ha-haven't tried one, how does it taste, by the way?" she added, bending down, sniffing despite knowing she won't smell much since it's all carefully sealed, causing Genesis to laugh.

"Oh, sweetheart, trust me, you wouldn't want to try. Once that pretty little tongue of yours tastes this, there's no going back," Genesis uttered, grunting once again, pushing the wooden box with his foot.

"It's that addi-addicting?"

Nodding, "Yes, sweetheart,"

Pausing for a moment, biting her lower lip, her eyes traveling across the numerous bottles of ales before her, "That's...inte-interesting,"

Agatha noticed how Genesis stacked a box filled with twelve bottles of ales in the different section when she asked him about it, he answered, "It's for Devon, sweetheart. I usually give him his part early since I don't want him knocking on my doorstep in the middle of the night,"

Genesis rosed from the ground, stretched for a second, Agatha eyeing him, her eyes alternating between him and the ales. Genesis must've noticed since he playfully squeezed her nose.

Bending, he held Devin's portion in his hands, his biceps flexing, "Wait here, I just need to put it in the doorway where Devon could easily see it,"

That left Agatha all alone with the massive number of ales. Agatha slumped down the ground, resting her head against her knees, her eyes glued to the ales.

For some reason, Agatha was indeed curious about what it tastes like. Tell you, back in Cedarburg, despite meeting numerous drunkards, never did it even cross her mind how they must've felt like.

With that frowning, she gazed and gazed to the ales, her curious blue eyes shifting from one bottle to another.

Before she knew it, her pale slender fingers encircled around the bottle, grunting as she opened it, then, without any second thoughts, chugged down the whole bottle, wincing at its awful taste.

How on earth do people find this addicting? She rather eats a cold soup for a year straight than drink another of this overrated ale.

Agatha just sat there on the wooden floor, empty bottle in her hand, frowning as she tried concentrating on the feeling it provides.

She must've been sitting very still for seconds for her mind began jumbling, it was as if she couldn't think straight.

When she wandered her eyes around the area, she realized everything was moving. When she tried to rise from the ground, Agatha stumbled, the back of her shoulders touching the ground, her eyes on the ceiling.

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