Wine and Gun

At this moment, the lights in the entire living room were turned off, and only the light from the TV screen illuminated the small space. Sure enough, Maud Garland huddled up on the couch with a silly little bear blanket over his lap.

Ramirez suddenly realized that her face still looked the same as when she first left the army, how strange it was, he could clearly feel that he was getting older every day, but Garland seemed to be getting older. Always young - but when he looks at him, there's something in those weird grey eyes that still lets him know he's made the right choice, and he feels something warm back into the stomach.

Garland didn't say hello to him, but made room for him on the sofa. Ramirez sat down beside her and asked, "Why don't you go to the bedroom to sleep?"

"The jet lag isn't reversed yet," Garland replied in a low voice, her voice always getting softer on nights like this, "I didn't expect this mission to end so quickly. Go to the bedroom for sure. It'll wake you up—but I didn't expect to wake you up if I didn't go to the bedroom, knowing I'd been spending the night at Francis's."

Ramirez decided not to point out the many infeasibility of her idea, but in the end just leaned in and kissed her hair and said, "I miss you already."

Garland snorted from his nose, wondering if it meant approval. Anyway, she just leaned on Ramirez's arms and watched TV calmly, and during this period Ramirez at most gave a third of his energy to the TV screen - he was actually sniffing carefully. There was no blood on Lan's body, just a sweet smell of shower gel and shampoo mixed together, which generally indicated that she was not injured.

At the same time, the designers on the TV were screaming at a piece of turf, and they dug out a few pieces of what looked like bones from the wet mud.

"That's what?" Ramirez asked.

"A reality show, the kind where designers help homeowners remodel haunted houses," Garland said lazily, yawning uncontrollably.

"Poor people," Ramirez said. He glanced at the screen, which was inserting a popular science about the "Sunday Gardener", he had heard of the serial killer and knew of his last documented case - when a man killed seven people in a church Personally, you can hardly guarantee that a cardinal won't pay attention to it.

But it's been a few years since then, at least not giving Ramirez the initial shock. And Garland certainly wouldn't care, that's what Garland said when they first read the news in the paper, "You know what, Hilliard? I guess I killed it. People kill more people than those serial killers."

Of course, Ramirez disagrees with Garland's calculation.

At this moment, Garland is commenting: "...a very boring show, at least the part of the haunted house is quite boring...but there are no TV shows to watch at this time of night, unless I want to watch midnight adult shows."

Ramirez didn't know what to say about the phrase "Midnight Adult Show", so he could only say, "Uh—"

Garland fluttered in his arms and turned to look at him, with a sly glint in his eyes: "You know, I'm not interested in that."

When she said this, her fingers had already touched Ramirez's nightgown very directionally, her hands were still cold, and the calluses on her fingertips were slightly prickly. hold her hand.

Garland blinked, and Ramirez saw the imaginary, drooping dog ears from the top of her head: "Can't you?"

"There is a mountain of documents, and among them is a letter from the Holy See;" Ramirez thought for a moment, then warned solemnly, "and the clergy of the church would not want me to be absent from tomorrow morning's meeting."

Garland said in that sweet, pathetic tone: "But Hilliard—"

Ramirez couldn't resist the moment when she called his name protractedly, so he compromised: as if he would compromise on so many things about Maud Garland, even if it endangered him beliefs and bottom lines that may one day cause a scandalous scandal.

But, just at this moment, he can still allow Maud Garland to pin him on the sofa, the agent from the NSA climbs on his lap, and people on TV are still talking, they talk about evil, crazy--

Then Garland picked up the remote and snapped the TV off.

The last image of the show lingered on the screen for less than a second, showing people digging through walls with expressions on their faces that seemed to indicate that they were digging something unexpected out of them.

Garland glanced at the pitch-black screen before throwing the remote on the carpet, and there was never any mercy in those gray eyes.

"Poor people." She sighed like Ramirez just now, but her voice was soft and perfunctory, and then her eyes fell condescendingly on the Archbishop again.

After a moment, she leaned down and kissed Ramirez on the lips.

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