I raise a brow slightly.
“It’s rare,” she replies easily, leaning closer like she’s sharing a secret, “to meet someone honest and dramatic at the same time. Usually it’s one or the other.”
That makes me laugh under my breath.
“Dramatic?” I repeat.
“You said ‘consequences can go to hell’ like you were delivering a speech at a revolution,” she says, grinning.
I open my mouth to respond, but something shifts. Subtle at first. Like the floor tilting ever so slightly beneath my feet. I blink once. Then again. The room doesn’t stay still.
Elise’s face…wavers in my vision. Like she’s too far away and too close at the same time. My brows draw together slightly.
“That’s—” I start, then pause.
Because my voice doesn’t feel right.
It’s thinner.
Less certain.
I take a breath.
It doesn’t fill my lungs properly.
“Elise…” I say again, but this time it comes out quieter than I intended.
She’s still smiling—still talking—but the words don’t land.
They slide past me.
Distant.
Unclear.
And then it hits harder.
A sudden wave of dizziness, sharper than before.
My chest tightens instinctively as I try to steady myself.
I shift my weight back—but my body doesn’t respond the way it should.
My hand reaches for the table. It finds it. I grip it tighter.
Too tight.
The edge digs into my palm, grounding me for half a second.
But it’s not enough.
The room tilts again.
Harder this time.
“Elise…” I try again, but my tongue feels heavy now.
Wrong.
