Gripping the vial tight in her fist, she walked back out to the kitchen. Seamus had started the kettle for tea, almost as if this were a normal visit. Saoirse placed the vial on the table, mended after her struggle with Dermot.
He picked it up and held it to the light. “This is it? It looks… angry.”
“Appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Well, there’s not much to wait for, is there?” He pulled out the cork but she put a hand on his arm before he could drink it.
“At least wait for tea. In case you need something to wash it down.”
He flashed her a half-grin. “Sure. As if that will make any difference if it’s deadly, right?”
Frowning, she glared at the vial. “This is a terrible idea, isn’t it? What if I kill you?”
“I’d rather that than suicide. Suicide is a mortal sin. You can at least receive remission for murder after the fact.”