Sorting it Out

Sebastian

“I just don’t understand why Mim would tell her that I said the cameras weren’t monitored when we never even talked about that,” Dez says as he sits on the sofa in my room, sipping a whiskey on the rocks. I’m on my third, and it’s only early afternoon. Alcohol doesn’t do much to us anyway since we are shifters, but it makes me feel slightly better, so I’m drinking whatever the hell I feel like drinking.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either,” I say, not quite sure what to make of it. “I don’t understand why Mim pushed her to go.”

“We don’t know that she did.” Dez sounds a bit defensive, and I try to be careful of what I say and how I say it. He is confused about Mim at the moment,