"Damn it, Darren."
Brooklyn bit her teeth and looked away in frustration. Her fingers were tightened around her wineglass and she had her legs crossed, tight against each other.
With a short exhale, she set the glass down, the soft clink echoing in the quiet, and ran a hand through her blonde hair, her breath uneven. "You always see right through me, don't you?" she said with a low whisper of a voice.
Darren didn't feel like smiling this time. Whatever it was that was bothering her appeared to be very serious, especially since she went through minutes trying to pretend like it wasn't. So he kept his gaze steady and patient.
"Only when you're hiding something, Brooklyn. Talk to me. What's got you spooked?"
"I'm not spooked," she said defensively, then she looked away, staring at his fireplace for whatever reason. "I'm just... worried."
"Worried about what?"
