Alicia tilted her head, concern at hearing Adrian outright naming one of his customers. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him, clearly wanting an explanation, and an explanation she got. “Ugh, you really ought to take one,” she muttered with a sigh before she took a sip of her wine and shook head.
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t know if she’s alright. If they’re alright. Hell, I don’t even know if Oliver’s girlfriend is named Romilda or Genevieve or… Pippi Longstocking, though if Romilda is aware of what he admitted to after that first article..?” Alicia chewed on her lip, her heart going out to the younger witch. She didn’t know Romilda all that well, and though she had lost her husband, she had never had her heart broken and stomped on in this way. “If she knows, I really hope they aren’t a they and I doubt she’s alright. How long has she been ordering sleeping draughts? How much?”