In Which Threats Are Coming
Gael got to his feet and strolled towards the bar cart. "Are you thirsty?" he asked, glancing at her.
She shook her head. Gael faced the cart and poured whiskey into two glasses, then mixed Vichy Catalan and some lemons into another glass. Taking the whiskey in one hand and the fizzy drink in the other, he walked back to them and set the whiskeys in front of Giovanni and Lia. Then he went back to sit in the armchair with his lemon-flavored carbonated water.
Malia eyed the amber liquid in front of her and then the drink in Gael's hand, her brows knitting in confusion. He tipped his glass to her before taking a sip, the bubbles bursting in his tongue, the combination of salty and sour sloshing in his mouth. It wasn't damn near to any liquor he could've had, but Angela would chop his head off if she smelled alcohol in his breath.
"And why are you here?" he asked.