The week went by turning dense forest into rolling plains and fields as they got closer to Lor-Vold. It also turned out to be a week of hell yet again for Aldrin. He did not take into account the lack of fresh blood and took for granted the ability of the bandits to present themselves in the usual manner of robbery and murder which absolutely did not happen. Instead what they got was one pack of bandits, a group of three to be exact and mostly Level 5 wolves which Jared promptly took care of.
Unfortunately, the one pack of bandits that allayed themselves ended up being a blessing and curse in disguise. Aldrin’s senses had picked up Ingram’s scout tailing them a while back when the bandits first struck so they all had to be extra careful with Aldrin’s Skills in case the scout got a good look at anything. Of course that made them all be caught between a rock and a hard place because they couldn’t outright kill the scout but they also couldn’t outright oust themselves either.
During the week's travel he had also found out that ingesting blood of the dead made him terribly sick and rejected it. However, animal blood had sustained him but the hunger did not abate as much as it did when he drank from humans. So it became a miserable experience for him while Jared had taken the time to hunt during the day to keep Aldrin from becoming Feral and also keeping up with the guise of him taking care of his Lord.
With nothing but time to themselves that had all conversed with themselves as well as beginning to outline a plan as to what exactly the goals were. For Aldrin, it was and always has been the search for a cure so he can return home. The more time he spent away the harder it would be to explain what happened to him and that of his party. Jared had to return to the magical floating city of Folos to give the [Gem of the Lost Arcane] to a Apprentice Arcanists for his master in order for a Tier 3 Class mutation. Pierre had decided to inquire about the Alchemist profession while at Lor-Vold.
Jared and Pierre still hadn’t broached the subject of the Servant Quest yet with Aldrin either. Still agreeing on waiting until they had a more stable area to even begin to unravel after getting clues about a cure.
So at the tail end of the journey to Lor-Vold they had decided to finally split the loot amongst themselves after they had been going through everything since the first night of traveling. Each of them were happy with the amount of coinage that had managed to swipe, letting them all come to a total of 5,000 Imperial Gold coins. The amount lifted everyone’s spirits knowing that they had recently become as rich as the middle level of a nobleman regarding the Queen’s court.
Of course they would need to go to a Merchant Guildhouse to exchange the coin ratio as it was distributed between Bronze, Silver, and Gold coins. As such, the ratio was 100 Bronze coins equals 1 Silver coin, 1,000 Silver coins equals 1 Gold coin, 10,0000 Gold coins equals 1 Diamond coin, and 100,000 Diamond coins equals 1 Platinum coin. Luckily the coins could be called out from the Inventory but Aldrin hated carrying this much on him anyways. He was dreading going to the bank and accessing his account to begin with which would set off events that he was not prepared to deal with.
Besides the coins there were also a few gear items that came along with the piles. Jared had gained a new enchanted bow that would use his magic to empower his arrows further and boots to help with always having equal footing. Pierre gained a cloak that would better hide him in stealth and a new dagger that had the enchantment called Silence which locked any cries for help and activation of abilities for 3 seconds if the target was unaware. Aldrin was given an enchanted ring that boosted his Charisma by three points even during the Daywalker penalty and an enchanted necklace.
Ring of Sweet Talking: +3 to Charisma
Necklace of Obscurity: Choose what you don’t want others to see
Perplexed, Aldrin wondered how he would be able to do that since he had never encountered an enchantment that allowed a choice. Those types of enchantments were usually reserved for people with Tier 4 or 5 Classes in the queendom or the people who had that type of money to throw around. Thinking about how the necklace answered for him.
Do you wish to bind yourself to the Necklace of Obscurity? Y/N
Aldrin picked yes knowing how rare binding enchantments are rare too. The only way to rid someone of the binding would be to kill them otherwise whatever is bound to the person can never be stolen or damaged. A golden lit briefly flashed, blinding everyone sitting around the campfire.
Necklace of Obscurity is bound to: Aldrin Ravindra
Choose what you don’t want others to see:
Name
Race
Class
Profession
Level
Finally feeling lucky Aldrin hopped up for joy as he immediately selected his Race to hide.
Choice Selected: Race
Cooldown initiated
Time until you can select a new choice: 1 week
Beaming, he turned to Jared and Pierre who looked on with puzzling confusion. “Guys, Inspect me,” Aldrin said, smiling ear to ear.
Jared squinted then sudden shock overcame him, “Whoa! His Race disappeared!” he nudged Pierre who then had the same reaction after Inspecting Aldrin.
“I hope nobody asks why they can’t see your Race but I also hope that since you look human they wouldn’t mind it much,” Pierre added
“This means our potential heist just got better and we also don’t have to worry about that scout Inspecting you on the rare time you came out of the carriage!” Jared hopped up too, the excitement bubbling over him as well. He started to dance then so did Aldrin after throwing caution to the wind.
Pierre cracked one of his rare smiles and shook his head, his blue-black hair waving along with him, watching the two dance out their excitement. For once, Aldrin felt like himself again after the harrowing nightmare he has been going through. It rekindled the hope he had that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to search knowing he had some way to disguise himself from any prying eyes.
Happy to be back to somewhat normal, the rest of the journey was uneventful. The sun was beating down on the rolling plains that gave way to farmlands that were cultivating special herbs for the potions Lor-Vold created. Floating magical plows operated by the Farmers meandered throughout the field, gobbling up the crops that were ready. Initiate Alchemist also had bundles of herbs stacked in their baskets, some of which had been pulling along carts for the amount of stacks they had. Peeking through the curtain of the window of the carriage Aldrin saw a few of them give a wave as they passed by.
Lor-Vold soon came into view with its multitude of factories billowing iridescent smoke from their chimneys. They were all ugly brick or stone buildings meant to be packed in for efficiency and convenience. From what Aldrin could see over the stone walls of the city as they crested on top of the hill was that the city was magnificently busy and resembled an ant hill since the people in the town were hurrying back and forth, each of them pulling carts full of potions or ingredients.
People, more specifically adventurers and merchants, walked along the road when they finally got to a four way intersection. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t pay any attention to the carriage as they were all wrapped up in conversations amongst themselves. Sighing with relief Aldrin ducked back in the carriage as it slowed to a crawl when it entered the queue to enter the city.
The process to enter the city was smooth as the Level 45 High Guards did their routine check on the carriages to ensure nothing forbidden made it into the city. They didn’t care so much for the people but cared for what they were going to be bringing into the city since one wrong reaction to a potion factory would result in the devastation of the entire city. So in a nutshell, Lor-Vold was a nuke waiting for the right catalyst to set it off.
Once away from the gated entrance the group of three headed towards the residential district meaning the apartments, inns, and the lone Adventurer Guildhouse that operated in this area of the world. Sadly, being an Alchemist required long amounts of time spent in the factories or their laboratories crafting potions to perfection which left no time for building a home thus when Humans from Earth transmigrated to Grenora those who were dropped off here proposed the idea of the apartments.
“I’m assuming we are going to look for an inn?” Jared opened the slit, his brown eyes locking onto Aldrin's green ones.
Peeling his gaze away from the various potion shops they went by, Aldrin looked at Jared, “Yeah, I would rather not stir the beehive of Adventurers when my status shows up as dead when I check in,” He said.
“I’m sorry, really I am.” Jared sympathized, his downtrodden face added to his sincerity as he ran a hand through his short sandy brown hair. Unable to bring himself to smile, Aldrin looked at Jared hoping to at least convey that it was okay.
Leaving the production district and entering the residential district the foot traffic died down by quite a lot as most of the foot traffic centered around the factories, labs, and alchemical shops they recently passed by.
Like most inns and taverns the names were outlandish like The Third-Groomed Branch, The Whispering Vainglory, and The Limping Magnurian which was aptly named after the sea people that raided along the coastal areas of the continents. Of course the one that needed to be chosen had to be as low key as possible since drawing unwanted attention could cause potentially deadly consequences for everyone involved. As such they found an inn called The Gleaming Marigold.
Leading up the inn entrance was a stone pebble path that weaved throughout the outer courtyard. Outside seating was limited due to the flowers and hedges for privacy among the tables that had umbrellas in the middle of them to block out the sun. The building itself was cream colored with dark wood strappings and a brightly red colored roof giving it an old cottage look. The door was made of the same dark wood that finished the trappings of the building bringing it together as a whole. Of course the stone path didn’t deviate leading up to the door and was outlined with the same waist high hedges as the rest of the courtyard.
Adventurers and Merchants sat among the outside tables talking in hushed whispers as a few of them sipped on a rainbow colored drink topped with some sort of cream or foam at the top. Waiters and waitresses dotted to and fro each table bringing refreshments and food. Whenever one of them opened the front door of the inn the chorus of many voices overlapping one another bellowed out.
Aldrin couldn’t tear his eyes away as the various scents of food of both the people and the actual food being served filled his nostrils. His claws lengthened to sharpened points as well as his canines growing to accommodate the unfulfilled need of blood. Jared thumped hard against the wood of the carriage making Aldrin snarl in his direction. Jared stood his ground until Aldrin realized that he was borderline losing control of himself. His thoughts had filled with the images of carnage as he ripped apart everyone inside to feed on their lifeforce.
“Are you going to be ok here?” Jared gestured to the inn.
Shame overcame Aldrin realizing what Jared was asking. “Only one way to find out,” He replied.
Aldrin could tell that Jared didn’t believe him as he looked at Pierre with a look that spoke volumes between the two. Pierre was the first to hop down and enter the inn. Jared chose to stay put and keep a watchful eye on both Aldrin and the people in case one of them got too close. Pierre soon returned with a blonde haired, brown eyed, freckled young man dressed in a nice black button up shirt and slacks to match.
Immediately opening the door Pierre threw a cloak at Aldrin, ushering him to put it on. Understanding why Aldrin quickly draped it over himself to cover up the bloodstains. While it wasn’t uncommon for Adventurers to come to inns covered in their recent battles they were often stopped by others who asked to regale them with their fight. However, as they all were trying to be as least suspicious as possible the cloak would only add to the effect of them just being the normal Adventurer group instead of outwardly displaying recent bloodshed. It was a cultural norm among the Adventurers and inns to cover up recent displays of battle until you were cleaned.
The young man that had come with Pierre had taken the reins from Jared and assured them that both the horses and carriage would be taken care of. Stepping out now fully cloaked, Aldrin flipped the young man a Gold coin in his direction which made the eyes of the young man light up and did his job with more enthusiasm. Smiling slightly at that he was glad to know that not everything about the world had changed since he became a Vampire.
While the outside of the inn looked fairly sizable the inside was a whole different ball game thanks to enchantments that allowed for the inside of a space to allow for more than meets the eye. Magical lamps were placed evenly along each wall giving off a soft orange light that felt welcoming. The floor was polished wood with rugs strewn about randomly dotted the floor of the inn. A long bar that was composed of all different alcoholic mixtures and was being manned by two dwarves was placed in the middle of the back wall. Next to the bar, the entryway to the kitchen was a buzz of activity thanks to the waiters and waitresses continuously going in and out of there. On the other side of the bar there were stairs that one would assume led up to the rooms of the inn. The tables that were able to seat four were placed haphazardly around the inn but that didn’t impede any of the staff from maneuvering through. Along each side of the building’s corners were where the booths were situated.
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Pierre had already made arrangements for a table and they followed the pink haired hostess that led them to a corner booth away from prying eyes. Aldrin had taken that chance to look around as all manner of people sat with one another.
Combinations you wouldn’t normally see like a Goblin conversing with a High Elf on a potion that would replace your ears for feet. Shortly after hearing that Aldrin immediately focused on something else, more so a heated discussion of an Adventurer group that was composed of a feral looking Bugbear only wearing a loincloth and leather greaves, a Lysmere Orc in enchanted robes which were the more scholarly Orcs unlike their brutish cousins the Hizotul Orcs, the condensed form of a brown haired Giantess by the telltale sign of runic tattoos of Giantese glowing slightly blue, and a good old fashioned red haired human man wearing thick chainmail.
“I will absolutely not subject myself to the effects of that potion again!” The Lysmere Orc screamed at the Bugbear.
“Well why not?!” The Bugbear screamed back.
A thick vein threatened to burst from the bald Orc’s head, “Because I was shitting purple polka-dots! That’s what they're called, right? Polka-dots?” The Orc asked the Human who was casually slurping down his soup.
“Yes,” The Human answered, not bothering to lift his eyes from the soup.
“SEE! PURPLE POLKA-DOTS!” The Orc resumed his screaming match with renewed gusto.
The Bugbear got fed up and threw his tankard of ale at the Orc making it thunk off his head splattering on his robes. Smirking unabashedly, the Bugbear stood up as did the Orc. Squaring off, the Orc lunged over the table and tackled the Bugbear as they wrestled on the floor. The other patrons of the inn paid no mind to it making it seem like it was normal. The quiet Giantess stood up as well, walked over to the two squabbling party members and swatted them both on the head knocking them out cold.
“Thank you Eive,” The Human said, finally looking up from his soup.
Eive grunted in response and continued to sip her ale. Nostalgia gripped Aldrin’s mind as he thought back to the many times he and his Adventurer party had come to inns after Quests.
Finally seated at their booth, Aldrin took more of a chance to gain familiarity with his surroundings. Merchants were busy handling deals with other merchants or going over their itineraries with their assistants while the Adventurers were either resting and recuperating while they waited for their potion orders to be done. The inn itself reminded Aldrin of home which shot a sharp pang through his not so beating heart.
A waiter came by and quickly placed down three tankards of ale and three bowls of soup to which Jared took to without a care in the world.
“Oh my god real food,” Jared moaned as he slurped down his soup, forgoing the use of a spoon.
Pierre sipped on his ale, his face puckering up from the bitterness, “Once again I am reminded why I do not drink what Dwarves make.”
Picking up his spoon Aldrin was unsure if he could eat and drink normal food. Hesitantly, he scooped up a spoonful of soup and placed it in his mouth. He chewed the meaty chunks in his mouth trying to get a taste for it all which did not happen. Swallowing, he waited with bated breath trying to see how his body would react to the soup. 10 minutes went by and nothing happened which left him disappointed.
Jared had been watching carefully as did Pierre, “Well?” Jared asked.
Sighing, “It tastes like nothing and I feel nothing,” Aldrin admitted.
“That’s good right?!” Jared leaned forward.
Aldrin folded his arms and stared down at the soup, “Yes and no.”
Pierre frowned, “No? How come?”
“Means I can eat whatever but I don’t taste it and it doesn’t deal with the fact that I am still hungry,” Aldrin said, finally looking up at them both.
Jared’s excitement dropped as the revelation dawned on him, “So even with the Humanity skill fully upgraded it doesn’t actually give you all the benefits of living again. Damn.” He said.
Scooting out of the booth Pierre got up and walked over to the bar. They both watched him as he spoke something to the Dwarven bartender who listened intently. The Dwarf’s braided black hair and beard visibly bristled when his face turned beet red from anger. The Dwarf turned around and started grabbing bottles and pouring them all into one large container. Pierre sauntered back after placing two Silver coins on the bar counter, a proud smile gracing his face as he sat down.
The Dwarf rushed over carrying the large container and roughly placed it down in front of Aldrin. “I hear ye ain’t got no taste buds,” The Dwarf declared.
“W-What?” Aldrin sputtered, he looked between the Dwarf and Pierre who sat back smugly.
That seemed to anger the Dwarf even more, “I said, ye ain’t got no taste buds so drink this,” He jabbed a meaty finger in Aldrin’s chest. His anger slightly wilted as he felt his finger meet what felt like a stone wall in the form of Aldrin’s chest. Aldrin Inspected the drink in front of him.
Dwarven Killer
“Uh, excuse me but that says-” Aldrin began.
“I know what it says boy, now drink,” The dwarf insisted.
“Better yet,” The Dwarf then whistled, arresting the attention of everyone present. “AYE LADS AND LADIES WE GOT A NEW CHALLENGER HERE AT THE GLEAMING MARIGOLD!” He bellowed to all in the inn. One of the waiters ran out to get the patrons who were sitting outside after hearing the Dwarf’s proclamation
If Aldrin could shit his pants in this moment, he would have as all eyes turned to their table.
“What happened to being low key?” Jared whispered to Pierre who simply shrugged his shoulders.
Taken aback by Pierre’s noncommittal answer, “What are you playing at?” He tried a different approach.
“We want information and the best way to do so here is to see who’s friendly enough to give it out without being too nosey,” Pierre said.
“But by putting Aldrin on the spot?! Are you mad?!” Jared tried his best to stay quiet.
“Learned it from the best,” Pierre fired back, his smug smirk still lingering on his face.
Jared had no response as he opened and closed his mouth at the brazen audacity of his friend.
The other patrons in the bar watched expectantly when the Dwarf turned back around with his tree logs for arms folded across his barrel sized chest. Aldrin had been keenly listening to the whispering of Jared and Pierre. He looked at Pierre who subtly nodded in response.
Grabbing the large container with both hands Aldrin pulled it towards him feeling the weight of the liquid slosh around in the inside. Uncapping the lid, liquid death greeted his nose that made his eyes water. Trying his best to keep his outburst from squirming its way out of his mouth he held his breath and chugged the container.
When the first drop of it hit his tongue it was a sizzling tang at first that melted his tongue before it regrew back. Then the mouthful came that burned the inside of his mouth to nothingness as it worked its way down his throat. Surprisingly, his Undead Body kicked in numbing the sensations entirely leaving only the taste of citrus and vanilla flavored cream in its wake. Eyes widening at the taste he pulled back the container as everyone watched wide eyed and mouths agape.
Looking at the container with childlike wonder Aldrin raised it, “I CAN TASTE THIS!” He cheered that resulted in the inn exploding in celebration with him.
“DRINKS ARE ON ME!” Aldrin announced taking another swig of the alcoholic drink.
The Dwarf stared at Aldrin still as he gulped down the whole container. Setting it down, Aldrin looked at the Dwarf, “Another please,” He held out the container to the dwarf who took it absentmindedly.
The Dwarf stared at the container then at Aldrin, going back and forth between the two. “Are you part Dwarf my good sir?” He finally asked.
Aldrin guffawed, “I am afraid not.”
“Well you were born the wrong Race,” The Dwarf mumbled but Aldrin picked it up and smiled nonetheless.
Throughout the rest of the day and into the night, the Dwarf whose name turned out to be Thakheam Blackgrog, continued to pour Aldrin Dwavern Killer while the rest of the inn drank to their hearts desire. A few of the patrons had decided to retire either by force from being passed out drunk or from getting too rowdy and their buddies had to come take care of them. Only a few patrons remained as Aldrin finished his eighth container of the drink.
“Do you feel any effects at all?” Jared asked.
“Honestly no and it’s great! I can’t get drunk which means no hangovers!” Aldrin excitedly said.
“Oh man. . . I can’t get drunk,” He bemoaned, cutting his mood down some.
Pierre was nowhere to be found since he had got swept up in the earlier celebration after Aldrin finished the third container permanently giving him an honored guest status at The Gleaming Marigold.
“HESH YOU GUSH!" Pierre stumbled into the booth drunk off his ass.
Jared looked at Pierre in astonishment, “Pierre. . .”
“Yesh?” Pierre’s half closed eyes ambled around to focus on Jared.
Groaning, Jared ran his hands down his face, “You know what! No! We deserve this after the shit we have been through!” Slamming his fist down on the table.
“Hey Mr. Blackgrog!” Jared called to the Dwarf that initially served the Dwarven Killer to Aldrin
“Aye lad! I told ye to call me Thakheam!” He looked up from the glass he was cleaning.
“Are there any pubs open this late nearby still? My friends and I want to do one more round” Jared asked.
Thakheam frowned pondering the question, “Aye but yer not gonna like it,”
“Do tell!” Aldrin piped up letting his festive mood shine again.
“Blackbelly Alley, home of my clan’s distillery and pubs,” Thakheam answered.
Aldrin looked at Jared who then looked at Pierre who was rolling his head around trying to keep it up. “Shall we?” Aldrin asked.
“YESH!” Pierre jumped up from his seat stumbling for the door.
“Come with us!” Pierre called to Thakheam as he exited.
Jared and Aldrin waited for Thakheam’s answer as he thought about it, “Ah why the fook not,” he shrugged his shoulders.
Leaving the inn in the hands of the staff the group of four meandered albeit slowly thanks to Pierre’s drunken state over to Blackbelly Alley where the party had only begun. The alley was packed as all manner of people stumbled to and fro the various pubs that blasted music. A few of them bumped into Aldrin who brushed it off but the beast inside him growled every time someone did.
What started out as a memorable time turned into a blurry hot mess after Aldrin’s third drink as unfortunately he discovered that he was not all immune to alcoholic drinks. He should have known by the name of the pub called The Ivory Middle Finger which of course had the skeletal hand forming the middle finger gesture. Inside it was dark and dingy with eerie purple flames floating around but that didn’t stop the amount of people clogging up the bar to get drinks as heavy metal music; or at least the Dwarven variation of heavy metal music blared out from somewhere amongst the sea of people.
Thakheam had managed to get four shots of the signature drink called the Pale Chariot which was a milky cream colored drink with bits of red flakes floating around. Not caring and caught up in the moment he took the first shot. It was sweet followed by a bitter crunchiness from whatever the flakes were. There was also an addictive quality to it that made him want more which Thakheam wholeheartedly obliged. The second shot made him feel woozy but it was soon shaken off but the third shot made his knees buckle.
Warning!
You are poisoned!
Heilsdale Flower detected!
That sobered up Aldrin really quick but it was already too late as his knees gave out making him fall flat on his ass.
Thakheam laughed as did Pierre but Jared had been pacing himself and saw the scared look of Aldrin. Jared was the first to scoop him up, “What happened?” He whispered in his ear.
“Poison, numb,” Aldrin managed before he felt the rest of his body including his tongue go limp.
Aldrin felt himself being dragged as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He heard Jared and Thakheam speaking rapidly or at least it was rapidly to Aldrin as his mind slowed to a crawl and everything moving was a blurry figure. Deciding to shut his eyes for good, sleep called to him and he answered, letting himself drift into its embrace.
Loud banging greeted him the next morning, groaning and rolling over in the comforts of something soft Aldrin did not get up. The banging continued, harder this time, until a door opened and voices could be heard speaking in hushed tones. His hearing was still muffled and cloggy so he could not exactly hear what they were saying nor did he want to since whatever comfortable thing he was on molded to fit his body. Two sets of boots thundered along the wooden floor towards him, making him cover his ears even more as his ears struggled to heal and adjust themselves. Then his own door opened making him frown at the sudden intrusion.
“He’s in here, he is alive or well un-alive but you get the point,” Jared said.
Aldrin sat up, the light streaming in from the window blinded him as the two figures that stood in the room blurred together. “What happened? Where am I?” Aldrin asked, feeling his senses slowly come into focus.
“Long story short we had a good night,” Jared chuckled.
“Too much of a good night,” Pierre said, taking a seat to nurse his raging headache, his usual ponytail nowhere to be seen, letting his hair hang out wildly.
“Pierre, we needed it.” Jared argued.
Pierre waved his hand and gulped down more water that sat on the desk along with a plate of a fresh bowl of jassatil which were marble sized lavender colored fruits.
Slowly but surely Aldrin’s vision focused more, taking in the room he was situated in. It was pretty basic with just a bed, a chest for storage, an end table, a desk, and a wardrobe. The walls were painted a soft blue color that contrasted the white wooden furniture with a landscape painting of a jutting mountain surrounded with fields of flowers.
“Here,” Jared held out a cup of dark red liquid that made Aldrin’s stomach grumble in protest.
“Is this?” Aldrin asked.
“Fresh and it should tide you over until we can at least get you someone to fill you up,” Jared said, sitting down on the chest.
Aldrin gulped down the blood and felt himself feel immediately better. Thanks to his new level in Thirst the little he had felt like he had drunk at least half a person. Filing that away for later he hoped he no longer had to kill anyone in order to be satisfied.
“How do you feel now?” Jared asked, eyeing Pierre
“Like shit still,” Pierre answered, still rubbing his head and eating a jassatil. “We get transported to a magical world and there is no cure for hangovers, what kind of stupid nonsense does that make,” He grumbled to himself.
“There probably is somewhere out in the world and we just don’t know where to look,” Aldrin offered up.
“Wait! Are those jassatils?!” Aldrin finally noticed.
Pierre looked down at the almost empty bowl then looked at Aldrin as he slowly nodded his head. He swallowed, “Do you want one?” He offered Aldrin.
Aldrin remembered the way the jassatils would send tingles running up and down his tongue to enhance the flavor of the sweet nectar whenever he bit down on the soft fruit. Mourning for the loss of one his favorite fruits he shook his head not wanting to get his hopes up if it turned out to taste like nothing again.
“So what’s the first order of business today?” Aldrin asked after feeling a lot better than when he woke up.
“First things first! We gotta talk,” Jared leaned forward, the seriousness of his tone made Aldrin pause all other thoughts making Pierre perk up as well.