The Red Side is Always Blocking My Dog ​​leash

"I seem to hear the syllable eat?" Hannibal smiled. "Sorry, I'm always sensitive about this. Hope I didn't interrupt your conversation."

"Excuse me? uh, of course not. I thought you were supposed to be in your office now, work, or something?"

"I'm responsible for the safety of my patients, since there's a dangerous man staring at us out of nowhere. But yes, I should have been listening to Mozart in the office."

Hannibal closed the door with a backhand, walked to the other side of the bed, and sat in the seat before Alana, "until I found out that Jack sent me a picture of my patient on the scene."

"Arnold, how are you feeling?"

To be honest, Mr. A, who is sandwiched between the two of them, doesn't feel very good. He's unarmed now, with a shoulder injury, and if Hannibal wants to, he can make a lamb chop tonight.

A Jun replied: "Fortunately, the effect of anesthesia is great."

"It seems to be in good spirits, then I can rest assured." Hannibal observed him in a decent way, but Mr. A only felt that he was evaluating which piece of meat was delicious, "Contact his family. ?"

The second half was addressed to Will.

Contacted, but probably not family.

In fact, when the FBI cracked open his mobile phone, he found that it was almost empty. The only entertainment was a video website and a comic website. The other party had been watching anime and comics almost 14 hours a day for the past two days.

This can probably be explained by the fact that the phone was just bought last week.

There is only one contact in this new mobile phone address book, no call records, and the inbox of the mailbox only has emails from one person. The other party will meet Byron at the Japanese food store because of that person's request. He is a cooking lover. There had been some sort of training instructing Arnold.

So they contacted the senior Bourbon who had the same note in the address book as the person in the mailbox.

After all, there is no other option - there is nothing on the other party that can prove his identity, and the same is true for mobile phones, and this kind of thing is not enough to use fingerprint comparison.

Will said: "We contacted your senior, you should know."

A-jun nodded and suddenly stopped.

Wait, what was he talking about with Hannibal during the psychological consultation the day before yesterday?

- "Lovers?"

— "As you wish."

Mr. A: …

"Oh? Is that the senior who instructed your training?" Hannibal laughed with interest, "You have a good relationship."

Damn, this guy doesn't mention that word, isn't it weird that he suddenly said that the senior is not a lover or something?

A-jun nodded in embarrassment.

It's okay, it's not a big problem.

The other party is that Bourbon, the character is an intelligence monger, the kind who can't afford to get too early, how can he call someone in a phone call, and it's still a big trouble with the FBI...

Probably not. No way.

Bar?

"Want to drink some water?" The blond young man asked with a smile and handed the warm water to him.

A cold sweat dripped from the forehead of Mr. A.

Although he was smiling, there was always a sense of oppression that he would die if he didn't drink.

Yes, terrible!

"Thank you, senior." A Jun closed his eyes and drank it, making an evaluation that was inconsistent with the facts, "It's delicious!"

"This can't please me." Bourbon looked ruthless, but turned to face the other two with a bright smile, "Good afternoon, my name is Poston Hepburn. What happened to Arnold, can I trouble the two of them for details? Tell me in detail? If you ask this guy, you will probably get a false answer."

Mr. A: …

I know this is gathering information, but, how should I put it...

There is always the illusion of being really cared about.

What Will told was consistent with the FBI's investigation. He didn't tell the story about the blood-stained gun. On the whole, it was a hapless child who was brought home when he encountered a serial killer. Before he died, he had a powerful potential to fight back. Prisoner's story.

The corner of Bourbon's mouth faded, and he looked at Mr. A, who was pretending to be dead on the hospital bed: "Maybe we need to talk about vigilance, five-year-olds know that they can't just eat candy from strangers, you are sixteen years old. already."

A Jun quite cooperated with his performance, showing aggrieved look, lowered his head, and said in a low voice: "I know, not next time."

"The reprimand is not my purpose, it's just...don't let us worry, okay?" Bourbon stroked the top of his hair lightly, his smoky purple eyes filled with genuine worry and concern.

Last time, Mr. A probably did not experience such a thing, and the future has been changed.

It was Bourbon who asked him to go to that grocery store, so he met Byron. If Mr. A really became Byron's tenth victim—

Tomorrow or accident, you never know which will come first.

The blond young man raised his hand to cover his face, put it down after a while, and seemed to calm down, "I'm sorry, can we two be alone for a while?"

"Of course..." The two men got up quickly, in fact they would be leaving soon even if Bourbon didn't mention it - it's not a gentleman's job to continue harassing in this situation.

"Excuse me to ask one more question." Hannibal said before closing the door, "Mr. Taylor, I mean Arnold's brother, will he come?"

"When something like this happens, you need the company of your family the most, and Arnold's situation is even more so."

Bourbon remained calm: "I didn't tell Seamus about this. He's been busy with important things recently, and we can't affect him. Arnold thought the same thing."

Arnold nodded immediately.

Hannibal smiled, "Sorry."

The door is closed...

Bourbon walked around the room, the FBI certainly wouldn't install a wiretap in the victim's ward, just out of an abundance of caution.

"Then—let's talk about what happened."

The boy on the hospital bed nodded slightly.

"When I was in the store, I noticed the strange attitude of that person, Byron Layton, to me. To know why, I agreed to his proposal."

truth…

"He wanted to shoot me in the collection room on the third floor. I noticed it, so I shot him in the hand with the gun first, followed by the thigh, to restrict his movement, but before I tortured him, the FBI arrived."

Also true...

Mr. A didn't want to lie to him, but deliberately led him to think in another direction.

Mr. A thought that Byron found him because of the organization. He went to the latter's house to investigate, and fought back out of self-protection. He didn't kill him because he wanted to torture this guy.

Bourbon listened quietly and said, "The guy's injury can take up to four hours to wake up. At that time, the illusion you set up will be easily exposed, and the FBI will judge his testimony to be false, but you will also be suspected."

"Just suspect, they won't find evidence."

Mr. A didn't say anything about Will. The credibility of this sentence is obviously not high. Where can a blood-stained gun be hidden? Sooner or later the FBI will find it and reveal the truth.

Although I don't know why Bourbon came, he probably regrets it now - because of Mr. A, his face will enter the FBI's care list.

But this is the end, and he will not leave Mr. A alone. After all, it's already a huge loss, at least I can't make myself a loss.

A-Jun pondered, and was ready to face Bourbon with a murderous knife hidden in his smile, but—

"That's good..." Bourbon rolled his eyes, without any hidden meaning, "The skills I taught you before are also useful... It just so happened that I was thinking about changing a weapon for you recently. Browning used to be Stay in the evidence room."

The black-haired boy opened his eyes unexpectedly.

Trusted by...?

He tried to find something else in Bourbon's handsome face, but—

to no avail...

It's the same no matter how you look...on the outside.

In such a man who has turned three faces into symbols, and the mask is still a mask, he can actually use the word "reconciliation".

Mr. A is going to laugh at himself.

A certain subtle atmosphere surrounds the two of them, which almost stagnates the air in this small room.

Before one of them could speak, the door to the ward opened first.

The delicate atmosphere was swept away.

Jack Crawford glanced at the two: "Good afternoon, two, I hope I didn't interrupt your emotional exchange."