"President Shiratori, can I drink Macallan neat?"
"Straight, NoChaser."
Shiratori Mai held the cup in one hand and untied the tie of her blazer. "Art and whiskey are inseparable."
The charred liquid was poured into the glass about one-fifth of the way up, bubbles of varying sizes rose up, and Lila Aoi, who was holding the bottleneck of the bottle in an elegant and unrestrained manner like a butler, smiled approvingly: "Thelonious Monk's work is a really tasteful pun, President."
On the other side, Guang sat on a round stool, crossed his legs, held the soft black object between his lips, and snapped his fingers: "Xiao Ai, light it."
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