[Sadrain]

December 17th, Chicago. Sewers #17.

Leila smirked faintly, seeing that he felt rather insulted at her simple comment. So, Amante was sober enough to actually catch what she was saying. Not bad. He recovered fast, it seems. It wouldn't be surprise if Amante got drunk on regular base - his were body most likely received no permanent harm. Too bad it didn't, maybe then he would avoid this pointless thing.

"Indeed not a fake, eh? Then it's even stranger that you follow such a noble cause, act so confident, yet when your friends worry for you, you pick a stranger over them, to get wasted for and curl in dirty corner, like a homeless dog. No purpose, no self-worth."

Shadows shivered around her, as if wanting to do or say something, but she did not react to it. Leila's attention was now onto the man, for a brief moment at least.