When she brought him back to her loft, it was clear that, one way or another, she’d been planning on having company. There was a bottle of Chardonnay plugged into the wall, emitting a faint, amber glow.
"I have to confess," he began, “I didn’t come prepared for electric wine. I’m not wearing anything to ground myself with.”
“So what?” The fluid crackled softly as she poured it into each glass. “Neither am I.”