#Chapter 54: Old Times

Iris I step into the living room as Arthur moves to the home bar to pour me a drink. “What’s your drink of choice?” he calls from the dining room, which is adjacent to where I’m standing. “Still red wine?” “Yeah,” I reply, glancing around before I tentatively take a seat in one of the soft armchairs by the fireplace. There’s no fire flickering now, the room instead lit by a couple of small lamps and the city lights outside. I hear Arthur banging around for a moment, his movements clumsy and slow. A few moments later, he returns with my wine and his glass refilled with whiskey. “For the lady,” he says, handing me my glass. I take it, sipping slowly as I watch him flop into the chair across from me. He looks messier than usual, his typical polished appearance replaced by something foreign. But even then, he doesn’t look relaxed like he once did five years ago. And that damn curl is still nowhere to be found. After a few moments of silence, he looks up