Villain Ch 1563. Oat Milk Judgment
Allen placed two cups of coffee down on the table. One slid across the smooth wooden surface with a practiced flick of his fingers, stopping neatly in front of Gerry.
The other he kept for himself.
Steam curled up from the lids, mingling with the scent of roasted beans, toasted oats, and whatever cinnamon-dusted pastry someone ordered three tables down.
Gerry squinted at the label on his cup. Then raised an eyebrow.
"Oat milk?" he said, voice flat like he just discovered Allen replaced his pre-workout with soy sauce.
Allen didn't even look up. He was already unwrapping his cutlery, checking if they gave him the right order. "Yeah. I said that last time, remember? When you sent me that voice note with all the panting and dramatic sighs?"
Gerry made a face. "Bro. That wasn't meant for oat milk judgment. That was raw pain. And trauma. And glute cramp agony. Also betrayal."
