Sam was not one of those who got drunk in the bars of the cities where he was a professional looter... But that night was different. He had influenced Nate, even just a little, to lie to his wife and go back into the relic thief business just for him. He was selfish, he put his little brother's happy marriage on the line and now the older Drake's conscience was overwhelming him to the point of inducing him into an 'almost' alcohol coma. The forty-year-old man got up from his mobile seat at the drinks bar and was barely able to take a couple of steps towards the bathroom as he immediately stumbled clumsily, like a scripted drunk, over his own feet.

"I'm sorry, honey" Were the simple words that dragged from his lips with difficulty as he palmed the thin, soft forearm of a female figure he bumped into. Drake coughed and when he looked up suddenly he was no longer completely drunk... He analyzed what he had in front of him as if he were seeing a relic he coveted for so long. He raised both eyebrows in surprise at how fucking his type the girl in front of him was. He swore on Henry Avery that it wasn't the effect of alcohol that made the beauty in front of him look so 'tempting to steal'.