#Chapter62
I'd argue, but he's kind of right.
He hands me a loofa and I take it from him and throw it at his head, standing up to get the towel I had in my hands before.
He's scrowling at me when I look at him. /"That hurt./"
I just shake my head and reach out with my arm. /"Give me your hand./"
/"Yes, miss./" he says and lays his hand into mine.
I'm loving this playful Axel he's being right now, it's hard to remember why I was mad at him in the first place. I carefully inspect his knuckles, all ripped and hurt, before starting to clean them with the warm towel.
He doesn't even make a sound, just watches me.
/"What were you doing last night?/" I ask him and he sighs.
/"Oh, you know. The usual. I got drunk like hell, took my anger out on the glasses and plates, punched the wall, and then blacked out in my vomit. Nothing special./" he says, trying to humour it, but I can see the sadness in his eyes.