Not long after the sapphire blue Bugatti returned to the hotel, the black and silver ones also came back.
As Vincent stepped out of the elevator carrying his meticulously prepared dishes, Eric, who was leaning against the corridor, gave him a meaningful thumbs-up.
His father's inexplicable behavior left him bewildered.
It couldn't have happened without a reason. Could it have been seen just now?
So what if they see it? It's not like we're secretly dating.
Vincent walked past Eric with an air of nonchalance and stopped in front of Hermione's room.
The door opened from the inside as soon as I knocked.
Hermione looked at the plate he was covering with his hand with anticipation.
She could faintly smell the sweet aroma of seafood, as well as a unique and pleasant fragrance of spices.
What's inside?
"Seafood fried rice and grilled meat skewers."
Eric watched the two enter the room and shook his head in disappointment.
It was just a French kiss, something he'd already done when he was younger.
Progress is so slow. If it were him back then, he would have done everything that needed to be done several times over.
After dinner,
Vincent walked out of Hermione's room and found his elderly father still leaning against the wall in the hallway.
It couldn't have been someone waiting for him specifically, so there's only one truth.
"Dad, did Mom kick you out again?"
Eric snapped, "What do you mean 'again'? I was never kicked out at all."
Vincent looked at him suspiciously. "Dad, do you dare swear an oath to the Queen?"
Eric, his face ashen, put his arm around his shoulder. "Since you've figured it out, come upstairs with me for a drink."
The father and son took the elevator to the rooftop bar on the hotel.
The environment here is quite nice, offering a panoramic view of the entire city.
The two found a seat near a corner and sat down.
As soon as the waiter put down the menu, Eric pushed it to Vincent without even looking at it, "A bottle of 12-year-old Johnnie Walker, no ice, please."
Vincent glanced at the menu briefly, ordered some fish and chips, and thoughtfully also ordered a steak and pasta.
Whisky drinkers often know the saying, "Sweet goes with umami, spicy goes with salty, and Scotch goes with everything."
Whether you're a die-hard whisky fan or a complete beginner, it's hard to resist the image of Britain gentleman walking with a cane in hand.
The waiter didn't have to wait long before Johnnie Walker.
The bottle's label features an eye-catching slanted design, with a walking Britain gentleman printed on the bottle below the label.
Vincent took the initiative to unscrew the bottle and pour a little into each of their glasses.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
The liquor has a smooth yet full-bodied taste, with a particularly sweet and refreshing flavor, and also has the typical peaty and smoky notes of Scotch Whiskey.
Before you could even savor it, the smooth liquid had already slid down your throat.
After finishing one glass, Eric poured a little more into both of their glasses.
After Vincent clinked glasses with him again, he didn't drink it right away. Instead, he held the bottle in front of himself.
"Dad, why don't you eat something first?"
Drinking on an empty stomach is particularly bad for your health. Feeling a warm glow in his heart, Eric quickly put down the glass he had already raised to his lips.
He said nothing, only gently swirled the wine in his glass.
The Wayne father and son actually have quite similar personalities; neither of them readily reveals their innermost thoughts.
A few minutes later, the waiter came again.
Seeing the quiet atmosphere, she placed the food on the tray on the table and left.
Eric picked up his knife and fork. "I'll fill my stomach first. Don't finish your drink."
Vincent smiled. "Dad, do you think I can finish a whole bottle?"
"Of course you can." Eric twirled a large handful of spaghetti with Italy fork. "Hermione told us that you often go to the pub outside of school on weekends."
Vincent's smile gradually faded. "It's all Sirius Black's fault. He always asks me to drink with him."
Eric swallowed the pasta in his mouth. "Sirius Black is that escaped convict from last year, right?"
Hermione said he could turn into a big black dog, or was it you who brought him back to school?
"Yeah." Vincent pursed his lips, raised his glass and took a sip. "Why does she tell you everything?"
Eric rolled his eyes. "You have the nerve to say that? If it weren't for her, we wouldn't even know how you were doing at school."
Knowing Vincent said nothing and silently drank the rest of the wine in his glass.
He didn't blame Hermione for telling his parents about his situation, since both she and his parents meant well by caring about him.
What really annoyed him was Trelawney's damn Prophecy.
If it weren't for this damn thing, he wouldn't have needed to hide so many worries, or even have some of his parents' and Gu Gu's memories stolen.
If his relationship with Grindelwald were exposed, it would definitely provoke a strong backlash from global magical governments, turning him from a rising star in the Wizarding World into the number one dangerous figure.
Eric stopped him from pouring wine into his own glass. "Don't blame Hermione. She's a good girl. We just want to know more about you."
Vincent shook his head gently, "I don't blame her, it's just that I..."
He hesitated several times before speaking, then said, "There are some things she probably didn't tell you, but I promise I will tell you everything in the future."
Eric released his grip. "Is it more serious than the argument between me and your mother?"
"Much more serious."
"Tch..." Eric twirled up another large handful of Italy. "You just need to take care of yourself. I'm not old enough for you to worry about me."
Indeed, given that the father is a former special forces soldier with extensive connections, a wizard with a sound mind wouldn't bother him for no reason.
As for those with abnormal thought processes...
Vincent recalled the Gugu's Flight Suit.
With the help of the mana storage devices in Alchemy, Muggle should be able to use it normally for a short period of time.
A slight smile played on his lips as he poured some wine into his glass.
"Dad, are you thirsty?"
"You have good taste." Eric raised his glass and gently clinked it against his.
After the father and son finished their second drink, they started chatting.
"Dad, so what did you do to make Mom angry again?"
"I didn't mean that. I just said that every piece of clothing she tried on looked good. She got angry and said that I was just flattering her, and that I must think that she looks the same in everything."
Vincent looked on in surprise, "Just because of such a small thing?"
Eric chuckled dryly. "Yeah, when you get married, you'll see how long a couple can argue over the smallest, most trivial things."
Vincent shrugged nonchalantly. "Dad, I'm a wizard. What you consider trivial matters are nothing to me."
Eric gritted his teeth and forked a large piece of steak. "You're pretty good, kid."
"Of course."
Vincent, who didn't believe in superstitions, didn't take his sarcasm to heart at all.
It's just a little tiff between husband and wife; it's not like they can't live together anymore.
Occasional arguments don't necessarily hurt feelings; in fact, they can enhance a relationship if kept in moderation.
Besides, Hermione isn't one of those fairies from a past life.