What are the chances?
Lylith hung up the phone then made her way to her balcony door and unlocked it. Her steps were sluggish and her eyes were a little squinty in the dim light. The young woman yawned as she made her way to the kitchen and made herself and Lo a cup of hot cocoa. She highly doubted Lo would drink it, but that was fine, she'd just drink it for him. A faint glow in the corner of the room was being transmitted from the clock on the oven, 3:32. Why was she always up so late when it concerned Bartholomew?