'You want another?' the man behind the bar asked. She nodded, smiling sweetly. He deftly leant across and swiped his tracker against her neck. He placed the device on the bar and assessed it with one eye as he casually started to pour the vodka.
'Yep, you’re good for a few more, you lucky girl!' He winked.
Freya’s affection for alcohol and her ability to drink it in large quantities was unmatched by most women of her age but so common now for those few who, like her, were virtually resilient to its effects.
She smiled acidly to herself. Ah, the power of modern genetics.
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