Wine and Gun

"Are you going to kill me like this?" Albarino asked, his voice sounding curious.

Herstal stared at him, the color of the iris still looked like a throbbing blue flame, his gaze was like a knife, as if trying to strip away his flesh and blood, and Albarino suspected that the other party was also spinning in his heart. The idea of ​​this.

"Because of course, you didn't kill those with criminal records because you thought you were a judge above God, you were just venting your passion and anger, like a man fleeing from those ghostly shadows ." Albarino's words sounded light and vague, "but you also have to admit that I'm not the same as them, right?"

"You're not the same type as those people, and there's no point in escaping the fact," Herstal replied hoarsely, and Albarino knew that the description wasn't actually a compliment—because, as Olga Molozze was, Consistent assessment: As a psychopath, the Sunday Gardener does not consider him and his victim the same creature.

"Will you cut me open like they did? Take out the guts, hang me up with piano strings while I bleed? Will you take my heart away? I like the figurative implications of it. "Albarino gathered his fingers and circled Herstal's wrist, and could feel the other's pulse beating frantically under his skin. "Or, you admit that it was a kind of fee for me? Because no one but me has seen through your essence - the deepest part of the abyss?"

The pianist would of course be caught in a brief wander at this moment, because while Albarino did piss off Herstal, he knew he did enjoy some parts of the game: especially when it came to Bob Lang. that part of the board.

In this case, you can't overturn the chessboard just because you are at a disadvantage. It seems to be a matter of rules, although the whole thing may not have any rules at all.

"Remember those white grapes we talked about earlier, Herstal." Albarino said suddenly, capturing the confused look that flashed in the other's eyes for a moment, "Interesting, weird fruit, because of the brewing The nuances of the nuances, the tastes vary widely…”

Herstal whispered warningly: "Albarino—"

The Sunday Gardener gave a low laugh, which sounded almost like a choking since the blood was still dripping down his lips.

"You really don't want to try it, pianist?"

Note:

[1] The bold characters in this article are from Yeats' poem "Lida and the Swan", translated by Yu Guangzhong.

[2] Regarding the wines mentioned in this article:

Albari?o (Albariño, the word is spelled in Spanish, English is Albarino) is actually the main white grape variety in the Rias Baixes region of Galicia, northwestern Spain. It is generally recognized that the wine made from this grape is the best in Spain. of white wine. But wines made from this white grape are so acidic that some people are said to be unaccustomed to its taste.

[3] The Paso San Maro winery is the southernmost winery in the Rias Baixas.

[4] The bottle of wine in this article is a bottle of Vin Joven-level white wine according to the Spanish grading system - that is, "ordinary wine/new wine" released within one to two years after brewing, this level of white wine is generally not in It is aged in oak barrels after brewing, so it is not as full-bodied as other wines, but it is very fruity.

Because this wine is suitable for drinking at a young age—that is, the sooner it is sold, the better it will lose its fruitiness—so it is sold more locally in Spain.

[5] "August Spanish Wine Festival" is the International Albarino Wine Festival (Interational Albarino Day) generally held on August 1st.

Chapter 31 Lida and the Swan 02

Herstal's hand was still clutching the front of Albarino's shirt, and he had a hallucination as if the blood was burning in his fingers. He could feel his fingers slowly squeezing Albarino's blood from the cloth.

The other party just stared at him with dizziness and confusion in his eyes. Albarino blinked, and the expression seemed to be on the verge of a smile. Then he slowly licked the blood that was still running from his lips, hissing softly from the rip in his skin.

A drop of blood fell along the edge of the wound, as red as Hades' pomegranate seeds, and slammed into somewhere unknown.

The next second - for some reason - Herstal's lips had slammed into the other's mouth, the warm flesh between his teeth, sucking blood from the open wounds.

Albarino let out a low whimper, his voice somewhere between genuine surprise and fake smile. He loosened his fingers around Herstal's wrists and grabbed the fabric of Herstal's shoulder clothes instead.

It's obviously not a good idea to have sex with one of the most dangerous people you know, and it's probably only a little bit better than having sex with Officer Bart Hardy himself.

All in all, when Herstal stubbornly pressed Albarino against the wall and licked the blood from his lips, he could feel that the real psychopath had hardened, and that bulge was just about the same. against his thigh.

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