Samuel Johnson sat there with a frosty expression, holding a glass of red wine in his hand, sipping it slowly as time ticked by second by second. Half an hour had gone by.
Amanda Smith hadn't even arrived yet.
He had never known waiting could be such an excruciating ordeal.
Damn it, Amanda Smith, she couldn't possibly not be coming, could she?
"Oh my, big master Johnson, it's your birthday today, so why do you look so nasty?"
Tim Morrison had just walked out of a crowd of women and instantly spotted Samuel Johnson with a face of "unsatisfied desires" seated not far away. Others might be intimidated by his grim expression, but Tim, who had known him since childhood, could immediately tell that this guy was definitely grumbling to himself.