Back at their room doors, Rosalie glanced at the shirt she was wearing.

"I'll wash the shirt and return it to you."

They stayed in the food stall for so long, followed by harassment from several drunks, their clothes smelled like barbecue and alcohol.

Rosalie felt a little disgusted at the whiff of her own scent.

Byron’s response was irrelevant. "Were you frightened just now?"

Rosalie was stunned for a few seconds before realizing what he was talking about. She pursed her lips, then smiled.