She turned to see a waiter, face covered with a raven mask, holding a tray of oddly colored drinks, each bubbling enticingly. Red, green, blue, pink, or gold. “Pick your poison,” the waiter urged as a cacophony of moans vibrated through the room. She hesitated. “What will it do?” “Depends,” they answered. “But you have about one more minute to choose before you’re taken from this place.”
I was thinking "Girl, you better not drink anything. 🤨" but they *have* to?!
