Wine and Gun

But one thing:

There is another descending staircase at the end of the living room, apparently leading to the basement. The stairs are so short that you can see the end at a glance, where there is a door.

The door is locked.

Albarino bit his lower lip slightly, and glanced in the direction of the porch: Although they were all blocked from view by the wall, the voice of McCard's questioning in an orderly manner could still be heard, as if he was talking about jiāo tongs or something. . The other party lowered his voice very slowly, it sounded like he wanted to keep the other party from getting too nervous, but Albarino bet that the other party understood his eyes, so McCard was just stalling for time.

He thought for a while, then quickly went down to the bottom of the stairs, in front of the locked door, while listening to the voice of McCard and Elliott's conversation, he took out a pair of rǔ rubber gloves and put them on, then Pull out a piece of wire from the pocket.

—Hopefully his lockpicking skills haven't regressed.

With a click, the door was opened.

Herstal Armalite looked up.

Eliot was standing beside Herstal when the knock on the door rang outside - he was very obsessed with physical contact, which was not a good idea for Herstal - he was swimming beside him. The longer the dàng took, the slower the plan to "cut the rope with broken pieces of porcelain", and when the knock on the door rang, Herstal wanted to thank the god he didn't trust.

The person who came may or may not be a policeman. Judging from Elliott's international level, the possibility of a policeman is probably not high. But Herstal understands the current situation very well: with the available evidence, the police must not be able to apply for a search warrant, that is, to ask questions, the possibility of him being found is very slim.

So he didn't hold out much hope at all, and after Elliott left and locked the door of the small room he was in, he immediately began to grind and break the rope.

Herstal had to admit that he was taken aback when the locked door suddenly opened - if it were the police, they wouldn't have ended the questioning so soon. Then he saw Albarino Bacchus's smug smile, which the dark environment could not erase, hung on his face like a dazzling light bulb.

At that moment, Herstal really wanted to rush over and use his teeth to tear Albarino's face off his skull. Blood would surely splatter on his face. This fantasy made him feel comforted. . But don't say he was tied and couldn't move, maybe Elliott wasn't too confident in the soundproofing of the room, and he taped Herstal's mouth tightly before he left.

But apparently the soundproofing is pretty good, otherwise there's no way to explain why Albarino picked a lock and no one found it.

Albarino, walking as lightly as a cat, stood at the very end of the gloom and whispered, "Look at you, my dear."

Herstal didn't think they could use the word "dear" to call each other, but he also knew exactly what Albarino saw now - he, forced to lie half on the tattered bed, with his hands and legs were strapped sturdily, bare feet, shrouded in the halo of a poor little light bulb overhead.

"You are so beautiful," Albarino's eyes flashed, and he stepped closer in complete silence. "You look like you are in François Boucher's Diana after the Bath."

Herstal had no sympathy for his twisted aesthetic. Albarino knelt on the mat without warning, and held Herstal's ankle tightly bound by the rope with one hand. The blood near the skin had been used up. The flow is not smooth and takes on a disturbing black-purple color.

I'd love to have the hounds tear you to shreds - thought Herstal, and tried to express it with his eyes. Albarino smiled at his sharp gaze, rubbing his thumb fearlessly against the taut, inflamed skin on his ankle.

"Has he possessed you? You're not going to let his obvious intentions succeed, are you, pianist?" Albarino murmured, releasing Herstal's ankle and climbing up a little , almost the whole person was pressed on Herstal, "Did he kiss you?"

Albarino stared at him with pure curiosity, then leaned forward suddenly, grabbing Herstal by the shoulder as he ducked back. Then Albarino jammed him so hard, leaned in and kissed Herstal on the lips through the tape.

Herstal's eyes silently expressed murderous intent, and Albarino's hand on his back slid down without warning—withdrew it from between his bound fingers stiffened. Broken china, Herstal tried to tighten his fingers when he realized what he was trying to gān, but his hand was almost numb.

The next second, Albarino jumped off the bed. Although he knew very well that Herstal couldn't move now, he didn't really want to take such a risk: after all, the other party's staring eyes told him that as long as he could not move. Whenever possible, Herstal would bite off his throat.

"There are still dry water stains on the ground, and there are broken pieces of porcelain in the trash can in the living room above." Albarino shook his head slowly and looked down at the piece of porcelain in his hand. There was a little blood on it, which was probably He cut his fingers as he pulled the tile out of Herstal's hand. "You broke a cup? Very brave attempt, but that's not the way it is now."

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