Chapter 23

The Twenty-third Act

"Hey, Marian, can't you talk to me in another place?" Aier walked carefully and accidentally stepped into the puddle "Oh! Oh my God! Damn it! My trousers!"

"Do you want to talk to you in another place? For example? Marian leaned against the wall and ignored the coldness of the wall. The sarcastically holding the corners of his mouth, "Is it a coffee shop with elegant music or a square with a wishing pool and white pigeons? Ha! Are you kidding me, Er. Bronte? What do you think you are? A demon or a vampire? You are just a werewolf!"

Aier retreated back to a small corner with a clean place, and stared at Marian coldly: "What's the matter with you, Marian? I can't leave for too long, you know, that will make my father doubt me.

"This is exactly what I want to ask you, Al. Bronte." Usually, he only calls the full name when Marian is angry. Now it seems that he is about to be mad, but his expression changes only narrowing his eyes slightly.

"What do you want to ask?" Ayle watched the tall man in front of him approach him. It was not until he trapped himself with his arms that he stopped approaching. The damp and cold feeling on her back made Ayr very uncomfortable. She struggled slightly and looked up at Marian. "Would you please keep a certain distance between me and me?"

"Why, Al? Don't tell me that you really like Claude. I don't think you are confident enough to think that you can fascinate a noble demon, right? Marian smiled sarcastically, withdrew her arms, put her hand into her pocket, and looked at Ayr with colder eyes, which suddenly made her feel that all this was inexplicable.

"What the hell do you want to say, Marian?" Elle was a little angry. What on earth is Marian going to do? Did he trick her here just to say these boring words? I don't think Marian has become so fond of chatting with people.

Marian smiled "hehe" and said, "Then I'll make it clear. Of course, I hope you can be very close to the devil, but it's not just for one. Do you understand what I mean, Ayr? You are very smart and don't need me to explain it clearly. Of course, this is just my unilateral opinion. If you have to explain, it's not impossible.

Marian picked up a wisp of her long golden hair, put it under her nose, and gently sniffed the dark fragrance on it. This intimate gesture made Aier very uncomfortable. She turned her head, and her long blonde hair slipped from his fingertips: "Enough, Marian, you really talk a lot of nonsense!"

She pushed him away and walked to the exit of the alley. Marian's slow voice came from behind her: "Don't think I'm a fool. I know the purpose of your coming back to town - eat Dorothy and enjoy it alone, am I right?"

"What? Are you going to stop me?" Aier turned around with a sneer and tit-for-tat with Marian. They didn't talk to each other, but they all cursed each other fiercely in the bottom of his heart.

This silent struggle made Marian lose the battle first. He waved his hand and said with a smile, "Well, well, Ayr, we don't have to be so angry, and it's because of an unrelative person. I just want to tell you one thing, Ayr, your father, he has been standing behind you.

What?!

Aier turned his head in surprise. When did Old Bronte stand behind him? Why doesn't she have any intuition?

"I won't disturb you father and daughter to have a long talk." Marian easily patted Ayr on the shoulder and leaned close to her ear. "I hope you stay away from Claude and don't want to swallow Dorothy alone. Did I make it clear this time?"

"I don't need you to order me, Marian!" Marian's figure disappeared at the entrance of the alley, and Aier's pale face almost shouted loudly, completely forgetting his father's existence. After a long time, she remembered her father, and her face turned paler. She asked him tremblingly, "Dad, when did you stand there?"

"Ayer." Old Bronte sighed and looked deeply at Aier's dodging pupil. "You go back to the room and change your clothes first. Your coat is soaked."

"No, Dad!" Aier gasped, as if she was a goldfish that accidentally jumped out of the fish tank. If she lost the water, she couldn't breathe. She looked tentatively at his eyes, "Dad, Dad, in fact, you didn't hear my conversation with the Department of Security in Mali, did you?"

"I also hope so, Er." Old Bronte shook his head gently. Obviously, he was shocked to hear such news. He didn't want to believe the facts he heard, but in fact, he had to be convinced. Of course, he wanted to hear Ayr's explanation, which was for sure, but not in this dark and humid alley. He waved to Ayr, "Son, shall we go back to the house first? No matter what you say or what I have, can I go back first and talk about it?

Aier looked at his father's broad back and followed him into the cabin with tears in his eyes.

Aier opened her wardrobe, and she picked out a clean dress to change it. She couldn't help but be even more moved.

It turned out that her father did not throw away her clothes. It turned out that her father had been looking forward to his return. Aier quickly lowered his head and wiped the tears that sneaked out from the corners of his eyes. Aier, who was immersed in his mind, did not find that Old Bronte was secretly approaching him. By the time he found it, a sharp axe had already Cut into your own shoulder.