Adaline didn't answer right away; first she glanced around the crowd. Curious eyes sparkled from all sides. Even those who pretended to turn away only listened more attentively. It was clear: no one was going to intervene or intercede.
“Excuse me, who are you?” - she asked coldly.
“Pfft...even if I tell you, you still won’t know.”
He laughed, rather roughly, hoarsely.
Following the laughter came the heavy smell of fumes. His cheeks were crimson, his eyes were dull. [He's clearly not himself. In his right mind, he would not have approached without first assessing the situation.]
Adaline frowned slightly.
She had actually just walked a few steps away from her family, felt like she was being watched, and decided to take a break from the stares. [Perhaps in vain.]
"You appear to be drunk."
"I? Not a bit! I'm completely fine!
“It’s funny... All drunk people say that.”
“And now the impostor also reads morals!”
[This was a formal event organized by the church, alcohol was not supposed to be present at all.]
Adaline glanced at the bottle in his hand.
[Drinking underage children are a problem in all worlds...]
[The small bottle, which barely fit in his palm, most likely did not contain water at all.]
He caught her eye, looked at his hand and grinned.
“What, do you want a sip too? Are you afraid to deceive people with such a cute little face?”
Adaline remained silent.
“They brought a girl here who looks like Adaline, and they’re telling stories. You think people will swallow everything, right? Damn Blanchard..."
[Now it's clear.]
[An inferiority complex destroys from within.]
[The interlocutor, burning with alcohol, was about the same age as Shane. In a sober state, he might even have looked pretty, but Adaline, accustomed to the appearance of the main character, had long ago lost her bearings. He was probably good-looking. Probably.]
"I'm sorry, but I have never deceived anyone." - she said calmly.
[Well, at least not you.]
She chuckled to herself, remembering how she deceived the whole world five years ago.
"So you're saying that you are Adaline Bertrand?"
"Exactly."
“Then this is fraud! You hide behind the name of the deceased!”
“So you want me to prove that I am me?”
"Well, yes! Otherwise you are an impostor!”
“Can’t my family, who are here with me today, confirm this?”
"Ha! They are, of course, in cahoots! Think a little! People don't just resurrect! You are not some kind of chosen one of God! Why should you be the exception?
"Great point."
"What?"
Adaline looked calmly into his eyes:
“You see, I actually didn’t die. If you had bothered to read the news, and not pretended that you could, you would have known: I was in a state, close to death. Coma. This is all."
“If a person is in a coma for five years, it’s as good as dead!”
“Yes, yes...” she nodded, as if agreeing.
“What is ‘yes’?!”
“That's right. But what can you do if the Duke of Blanchard and the Saint call me Adaline Bertrand?”
She looked at him with open sympathy.
[Conspiracy theories didn’t die out, they just went into overdrive...]
[If he had been at least a little smarter, more careful, he could have turned out to be a good instrument. It's a pity.]
[But the regrets quickly disappeared: the main thing was to get rid of him before his relatives returned and a real scandal began.]
“So say that you are an impostor!”
“And if I had no intention of deceiving anyone, am I still an impostor?”
“You are deceiving people! How is this “without intention”?”
“What can I do? I can't prove that I am me. Of course, this raises doubts. Any sane person would suspect something was wrong... So what should we do?”