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"Say another word, Nia Mitchell, and I swear I won’t kill you."
"OUCH..."
Nia Mitchell jumped into Maxwell Peary’s arms, giving him a big hug. She chuckled. He can still joke, so it seems he isn’t really mad anymore.
"It wasn’t on purpose, you know! In the heat of the moment, one can’t help but make a mistake—oh, not a slip of the hand, a slip of the tongue."
She reached out and gently rubbed his lips. He was no longer bleeding; the wound wasn’t big, just a ...
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