Wine and Gun

Herstal slowly put down the coffee mug, then commented bluntly: "Like the style you would choose."

——This is a style that Herstal would not choose. He would rather wear navy blue or lead gray pinstripe business clothes, choose lapel collars instead of lapel collars, tie clips instead of collar pins. White is like accepting the gaze of others, and even enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by the spotlight, which is not Herstal's style.

"Jīng beautiful?" Albarino raised his eyebrows, the white suit was made of material with a very good hand.

"Exaggerated." Herstal's voice was still cold, "I guess I will see something similar in this church."

Then his eyes fell on Albarino's neckline. Albarino lowered his head and noticed that there was a fresh splash of blood on the collar of his shirt, dyeing his white shirt a bit of blood red. . Albarino smiled indifferently: "A little accident, I guess the guest is not satisfied with the seat I arranged for him."

Herstal nodded slowly, he didn't seem to care what Albarino was doing in the church, as if he was sure that the other party would not make things too outrageous - outrageous in the sense of murder, for example Let the plan work out to his liking, although at this moment he doesn't even know what the plan is - Herstal just stood up and walked neatly to the door.

Albarino graciously opened the door of the small prayer room for him: past it, they were once again standing in the snow on Christmas Eve. As soon as the door of the prayer room was closed, all the warmth and light were sealed inside the door. It was still cold and dark outside, and they were standing in front of the carved door on the side of the church. The door was carved with the Virgin Mary in the stable. Relief of the Birth of Christ.

Albarino stepped forward, side by side with Herstal, but did not rush to open the door.

His fingertips brushed lightly over the waist of Herstal's three-piece suit, and Albarino felt the touch of leather near the fabric of the vest. Of course, he kept a gun belt in the drawer, and the revolver his father had left with the Christmas tree bell the last time he went to the police station.

Now the gun was no doubt hanging on Herstal again, grim and unrelenting, with a metal barrel, chilled by the cold wind. Like the night Herstal went to the hotel with a gun to find Slade after the trial.

Albarino smiled silently.

Herstal obviously noticed the curvature of the corner of the other's mouth, and he lowered his eyes slightly.

As Olga Molozze said, everything Albarino brought him was symbolic, last year's Christmas present was in a safe, the key to the safe was in a gift box, it was Because Albarino would rather give him a key to open a safe than a gun.

And this time, the gun was sitting upright in a drawer, full of bullets, but nothing else.

Herstal certainly wasn't stupid enough to read Albarino's obvious hints.

This gun was prepared for a final moment, just as Dr. Charles Bacchus decided to use it to end his own life. They all knew that time might come, but they didn't know when and how it would come.

Maybe one day, Albarino will get bored, maybe his love for the work will wear off, and then he will leave to create new works and find new pleasures; it's like one day Shana finds out that she loves her Her husband's love is not enough to make her choose to live, and then she will choose to die.

Now, Albarino touched the barrel of the gun in the holster. He almost softly followed the lines of the cast iron, touched Herstal's waist, and then wrapped it around him in this posture. took him.

And this gun is Albarino's answer to that possibility, it's not just a revolver, it's a promise of some kind of right: if that day comes, you can kill me.

"You know, Herstal." Albarino drew closer to the people around him, his voice soft and gentle, "I don't love you."

Herstal stared at Albarino attentively, and then he suddenly hummed softly, his lips provoking a sharp arc. Albarino could see a burning passion in those blue eyes, which could be read as the pleasure of hunting, the excitement of wandering in the dead woods and seeing the way out for a moment, this kind of excitement. The expression seems to be able to be called "alive" in general.

"And I don't belong to you the way Stone girl belongs to Pygmalion."

——Hestal Armalite answered solemnly.

So Albarino smiled too, his eyes narrowed happily, squeezing out a soft fine line. This smile seems almost sincere compared to the inhuman and creepy feeling he has given people recently.

"Then we have reached a certain consensus." Albarino replied, then he strode forward and pushed open the heavy door of the church.

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