As Josen tossed Mjolnir to F-kid like scrap paper to be stored in the deck, the Hammer God in a certain Marvel Multiverse lost his hammer once again to the background music of "Snowflakes drifted, the north wind sighed~~"
"No-"
After dozens of hundred-card draws in a row, Josen's deck had gained a pile of bizarre Fantasy Cards.
While he hid in his room drawing cards and dancing, Saitama and Genos, who had returned early, were each busy with their own tasks.
Genos tied on an apron without being asked and took the prepared ingredients out of the fridge to make dinner.
Saitama spread a layer of oil paper across the living room and worked on the wood he had picked up, looking very professional.
If one ignored the wood chips and dust flying everywhere, that was.
Rover stood nearby with its tongue hanging out, watching him work curiously.
Ever since Genos had untied its leash, the dog had not left Saitama's side for a moment.
Rover's intelligence, scant but definitely present, told it that only this strange, severely balding man before it could save it from becoming dog-meat hot pot!
Saitama: ...Calling me bald is one thing, but you won't even call me master!
(⚆皿⚆)
Rover: "Woof, woof, woof!" (What's a master? Can I eat it?)
(ꉺꉺꉺ﹃ꉺꉺꉺ)
Saitama ignored the carefree dog at his feet. Covering his nose and mouth with a towel, he sawed the boards into shape in no time, then launched into a round of clinking and clanking.
Genos wisely shut the kitchen's sliding door, or the three of them would have found plenty of nonfood seasonings in their dinner that night.
By the time Josen opened his door, dust filled the apartment.
( ᖛωᖛ )?
The handsome fellow looked puzzled for a moment, then