"Who are you people?" The bearded man shivering against the seat was soaked through. He craned his neck, his voice trembling as he shouted with more bluster than courage, as if the louder person at a time like this could seize the upper hand. This situation, far beyond anything he understood, had shattered his grasp of reality completely. Right now, all he saw were snakes, snakes, snakes all over the floor!
"Who are we?" Tom chuckled. He bent down, scooped up a slender little green snake, and held it in his palm, moving it toward the bearded man's shoulder. As it drew close, the little snake sprang lightly and hooked itself over his ear, then slid down, following the motion of Tom's hand to coil around his neck.
"Who are we?" Nelson repeated the question, looking at the murderer before him, whose body had gone stiff and dared not move. He felt somewhat confused. Clearly, it seemed as though his great hatred was about to be avenged, yet his heart had grown calmer and calmer instead. The resentment and excitement he had felt when he first picked up the fir wand had vanished completely when he truly faced his enemy. He kept murmuring the question over and over, as if he himself did not know the answer. The way he talked to himself looked a little neurotic, and Troka could not help taking a step back.
"I just don't like the look of you, so I want to punish you."
The fat bearded man did not dare look straight at them. While turning his face away to keep the little snake wound around his neck away from his eyes, he secretly sized them up from the corner of his eye. Nelson sat opposite him, like a teacher at the lectern