"Charlotte... Charlotte, are you alright?" Eason Chalmers asked again.
"Hmm."
Eason was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard a crisp shattering sound.
He saw the stem of Charlotte Allison's wine glass break into two.
Her fingers were pale from gripping too hard.
The glass was held by her palm, the mouth tilted, spilling red wine into her palm, trickling down her hand and mixing with the blood seeping from the cut in her palm.
Eason involuntarily swallowed hard again.
He... how did he feel like there was a storm brewing?
Eason quickly grabbed tissues from the table to wipe Charlotte Allison's hands.
The attentive waiter also noticed the situation and came over with a hot towel, concernedly asking, "Miss, is your hand alright? Do you need a doctor?"
Charlotte Allison placed the broken glass into the tray, wiping her hands with the hot towel. There was a wound on her palm from the broken edge, but it wasn't a big deal.
"Thank you, that's not necessary."
