Chapter 136 Drunk, Right?
At seven in the evening, Timothy came back holding a small fish tank.
There were two little fish swimming in the tank.
Elizabeth had already cooked dinner. She had taken a shower and washed her hair, and before she could dry it, she heard footsteps.
"Elizabeth, I'm home."
Elizabeth draped a towel over her hair and shuffled out of the bathroom in her slippers.
She was wearing a black camisole nightgown, her exposed skin smooth and fair.
Timothy held the fish tank with both hands, trying different spots to see where it would fit best.
He turned to look at Elizabeth. "How about putting the fish tank next to the TV?"
"Why did you suddenly buy fish?" Elizabeth glanced at the tank in his hands—two ordinary little goldfish. "Put it on the coffee table."
Timothy handed the fish tank to Elizabeth. "I just happened to pass by and bought them. They're for you."
He planned to buy something for Elizabeth every day after work.
The two little fish swam happily.
Elizabeth looked at them and placed the tank on the coffee table.
This was a gift Timothy bought for her, and she was happy to receive it. "Thank you, but did you buy fish food?"
Timothy paused. "...I forgot. I'll have someone go buy fish food."
He noticed her hair was still wet.
He reached out with his long arm, pulled her into the bathroom, picked up the hairdryer, and started drying her hair.
"I can do it myself. You go shower first. I've already cooked dinner."
Elizabeth's hair had grown to shoulder length. Timothy's fingers ran through her hair as he massaged her scalp.
Her scalp tingled.
Elizabeth's body shivered. She grabbed the hairdryer away. "I'll do it myself. Go shower."
Timothy deliberately leaned down and kissed the back of her neck.
Elizabeth scrunched up her neck at the ticklish sensation.
Only then did Timothy leave the bathroom to get his clothes and shower.
By the time he finished showering, Elizabeth was waiting eagerly to eat. She had been busy all afternoon and was truly hungry now.
"Mr. Robinson, I'm really happy today."
After saying this, Elizabeth bent down and grabbed a bottle of alcohol from beside her feet, placing it boldly on the dining table.
"Drink or not?"
"Drink?"
Both said "drink."
The former was honest Elizabeth.
The latter was lustful Timothy.
Elizabeth glared at him.
Timothy raised his eyebrows with elegant composure.
"Are we drinking or not?" She changed her wording.
Seeing her interest, Timothy decided not to stop her tonight. "I'll drink with you."
Elizabeth grinned. "Now that's more like it."
"Yes, what I said before was totally inappropriate."
"Exactly."
To prevent her from getting drunk and difficult later, Timothy asked first, "Did you take your medicine today?"
Elizabeth replied, "I did."
Timothy rarely drank high-proof alcohol when he was out. He poured drinks for both of them, but Elizabeth urged him to fill the glasses.
"Mr. Robinson, can't you pour it full? Let me do it. How can a man be so stingy!"
Timothy laughed in exasperation. This Elizabeth—no good deed goes unpunished. "If you get drunk, I'm not taking care of you. I'll let you sleep on the sofa."
This alcohol was already high-proof; a few glasses might knock someone out.
Elizabeth scoffed. "You want to hold me while sleeping every night."
And he was threatening to make her sleep on the sofa?
What a joke.
Timothy's weak spot was exposed. Smart enough not to continue the sofa topic, he ate his rice with the dishes. "Eat first, then drink."
They both knew not to drink on an empty stomach.
After eating until half full, the two clinked glasses and started drinking.
When they'd drunk half the bottle, Timothy advised Elizabeth to stop, but unexpectedly, Elizabeth grabbed the bottle and started drinking freely.
He fell silent.
He picked up his phone with amusement and snapped a photo.
Seeing her happy, he let her drink.
After all, she was at home, safe.
Elizabeth did get drunk.
She hugged the bottle with a silly smile, staring at Timothy foolishly.
"Drunk, aren't you?" Seeing Elizabeth acting stupid, Timothy held up one finger. "Elizabeth, how many is this?"
"I'm not drunk!" Elizabeth hugged the empty bottle and tried to drink more.
Timothy's thin lips curved slightly upward as he watched her tilt her head in confusion at the empty bottle that wouldn't pour.
Afraid she'd continue acting foolish, he reached out and took the bottle from her hands.
Timothy picked Elizabeth up horizontally, but she struggled restlessly. "I want to go out!"
"What for, this late at night?"
"Out, out!" Elizabeth was really quite drunk, her cheeks flushed as she spoke drunk talk.
She struggled to get down. Timothy had no choice but to put her down and switch to holding her as they walked.
"I want to go out!"
Timothy suddenly regretted it. He shouldn't have let Elizabeth drink.
Elizabeth pulled and tugged with Timothy, insisting on going out.
"Okay, okay, let's go out."
As Timothy passed the coat rack, he grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around Elizabeth, buttoning the two buttons at the top.
"So hot!"
"Not hot, it's snowing outside." Timothy lied to Elizabeth as he held her and walked toward the courtyard.
Elizabeth walked unsteadily. If she weren't leaning entirely against Timothy, she would have fallen to the ground.
She mumbled, "Quinton can't come back, he can't come back."
Even if Sherry was dead, Quinton still couldn't come back.
Timothy listened quietly to her mumbling. He looked down at Elizabeth, who was about to cry sadly.
He suddenly asked, "Elizabeth, why did you pretend to have amnesia?"
Timothy had actually suspected this for a while.
"Pretend what?" Elizabeth sniffled and poked his chest with her finger. "So hard, this bed, why is this bed so hard."
Timothy smiled helplessly. He didn't necessarily need to know whether she was pretending to have amnesia.
"Stop poking. I'm not a bed."
Timothy held her finger to stop her from continuing to poke.
There were stone benches and a table in the courtyard.
He helped Elizabeth sit down, but she suddenly stood up on the stone bench. Timothy quickly gripped her waist, supporting her.
Elizabeth looked down at Timothy from above, using her finger to lift his chin flirtatiously. "Lick."
"Lick what?" Timothy looked up, still patient enough to ask her drunk self.
Elizabeth's finger pointed at her own red lips.
"Lick until I'm satisfied!"
Timothy raised his eyebrows in surprise. When drunk, Elizabeth was quite lustful.
"Okay, okay, I'll lick."
Timothy lifted Elizabeth down from the stone bench, going along with her.
Her mouth had a strong taste of alcohol.