"Who are you calling father-in-law?!"
What was so great about him, anyway?
Nolan's body was covered in wounds Leon had left behind. Even the slightest movement hurt.
Ferocious, cold-blooded, and especially foul-mouthed... honestly, sometimes he seemed even crazier in a fight than Conquest.
At the start, when they had traded punches, though Nolan hated to admit it, he had already felt like backing off by the fourth blow.
Leon had punched that thought right back down.
Then there was that final, last-second stop.
Viltrumites rarely pushed themselves that far, but precisely because of that, Leon had successfully fooled him.
He was truly ruthless with himself.
How had a guy like that managed to maintain such a good image in Marcia's, Debbie's, and so many other people's eyes?
Could it be that he had even awakened acting genes?
Beside him, Leon wobbled as he floated down and apologized, "I'm very sorry, Mr. Art. I ruined the clothes you carefully made for me."
Art supported him with some heartache.
Then he turned to Nolan and spread his hands. "See? This is the good kid I was talking about. He even remembered to apologize to the craftsman."
"Anyway, I'll get something to bandage you two up first."
With that, he turned to fetch the first-aid kit.
Suddenly remembering something, he looked back at Nolan, who was getting up. "Oh, right. Leon first."
Nolan frowned. He felt like someone was stealing his life away.
At the table, Art had stopped working.
Instead, he curiously watched Leon splint his own arm.
As someone who handled logistics for heroes, he could tell the difference between being skilled at treating others and being skilled at treating oneself.
Leon was the latter.
Treating your own injuries came with many limitations. Sometimes, the wound was on your dominant hand