"We need bottle service," Zoe announced as she bounced in her seat. "We need a VIP booth at 1OAK. I want sparklers. I want to stand on a banquette and spray a thousand-dollar bottle of champagne over a crowd of finance bros!"
Aria let out a soft, exhausted chuckle, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window.
"Zoe, I literally just got shot at," Aria reminded her dryly. "If someone spots the 'traumatized, hunted victim' throwing ass in a nightclub an hour later, we are right back to square one."
Zoe paused, her hyped-up energy deflating just a fraction. She crossed her arms and pouted. "Okay, fine. You're right."
"Plus," Aria added, pressing a hand to her stomach. "I got black-out drunk last night. My liver is actively punishing me. I am staying far, far away from alcohol for the foreseeable future."
