Party A was Fujino, naturally, and the poor designer was Old Auntie Vermouth.
Of course, those were perfectly respectable metaphors. The description was just a little odd. There was nothing strange about it at all.
That was how Fujino summed up Old Auntie's little routine. More or less.
But Fujino had no desire to get tangled up in the mess between the Alcohol Company, the CIA, and the FBI.
As far as he was concerned, their brawl had nothing to do with him. They could beat each other until their heads turned into dog heads for all he cared.
As long as none of their blood splashed onto him and left him with laundry to do, he was fine.
With that in mind, Fujino folded his arms. "A bunch of FBI agents caught a CIA agent, and now a criminal organization wants to rescue him. To put it bluntly, it's criminals fighting spies. Dogs tearing into dogs. Why would an outsider like me get mixed up in that?"
"Who risks their life without getting paid?"
"You want someone to work themselves to death for free, and for your organization, no less?"
"You've got to be kidding me..."
"An outsider..." Vermouth pursed her lips and said with a plaintive note, "For an outsider, you know more than those of us actually involved!"
"So don't use that voice, okay? Acting cute won't make you any younger." Fujino stared at her, nearly spitting out the soup he had just swallowed.
Old Auntie Vermouth was the mature type.
When she suddenly acted like a little girl, the contrast was almost too much to take.
She really was an actress. Her acting was first-rate.
Fujino strongly suspected Old Auntie was doing it on purpose to mess with him.
After taking a deep breath to steady