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She looks as sober as any normal person, but the words coming out of her mouth say otherwise.

"You're absolutely joking, mate." Hana says in a British accent, draping her arms around Dexter and Sofia, whom she is sitting in between.

Her headpiece is now on the coffee table, and she looks the most relaxed she's ever been. But the other times we've been in each other's presence, she was either startled, or we were arguing.

Picking up one of her arms, she runs her hands through her hair, and I feel myself subconsciously looking at her forehead for that scar again.

Everybody else has left, fortunately. The only people here are the team, plus Hana and Vanessa. We're all sitting in the living room, each of us either on a couch or the floor. Somehow, we managed to get the sofas back into their original positions, and somebody put on a Ryan Reynolds movie. Nobody's paying much attention to it, though.

Most of us have thrown around pieces of our costumes. Saar ripped the crown off her head, I gave up on trying to make the devil horns fit, Sofia pulled the ribbon out of her hair. Hana shedded her angel wings, and her friend tossed her witch hat somewhere.

Colton's on the floor, with Saar and Rafael. Raf's dress is sprawled across the floor, along with the long locs of hair from his wig. Saar seems like she's passed out but she's participating in the conversation as much as everyone else. And Colton is still in his ridiculous minion onesie.

"I'm dead serious." Sofia replies in a southern accent. I don't know where the accents came from, I walked back into this mess after getting water. "She didn't even know she was walkin' into a bull fight!" She cackles obnoxiously.

"Aha, ha, ha." Hana laughs, but it's so slow and dry, that it brings out her actual giggles. It makes everyone break character and start laughing along with her. It even makes me chuckle.

Her eyes drift over to me, and she smiles. Her dark red lipstick makes me imagine unimaginable things. I don't know if it's the soda in my stomach that's twirling or the organ itself.

When did I start feeling like this?

"Hey, Morelli." She bats her eyelashes towards me, "Do you have any vanilla yogurt laying around?"

I chuckle, shaking my head while remembering the bizarre story she told me. "Sorry, but you put me in charge of not letting you have any yogurt."

She blinks longly three times, as if she's processing my words. "I did that? God, I'm so smart."

Grinning, she huddles back into her conversation with Sofia. My phone starts buzzing, and I frown, only to pick up my smile when I see the caller ID.

I tell the team I'll be back in a few minutes, and walk upstairs quickly to answer the phone before it's too late.


I watch his movements from when his hand reaches into his pants pocket, his phone lighting up his face in the dim room. Then, he smiles and goes upstairs.

Who was he smiling about?

Is that drunk me or sober me talking? I'm too drunk to tell the difference.

Goodness me, I have not been this drunk in years, but I love this feeling. Maybe a few sips of wine, but I never got farther than that. This is so cool.

I mean, not cool. Don't drink, kids.

But I feel great. I don't have a stiff bone in my body, and I have been laughing my ass off this whole night. This is so fun, I don't know why I don't go out more.

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