"Ding-dong."
As though confirming Riddle's actions, the doorbell rang.
Tom stopped fretting over his dog food and ran to the door.
From his posture, he looked ready to bite whoever came in.
Seeing this, John told Tom to step aside first.
Then he opened the door.
A tall, thin figure stood with his back to him, leaning on a black umbrella.
"Well, look who it is," the man said, slowly turning around. "John Wick. You came back here without so much as saying hello."
"I don't recall our agreement requiring me to report my itinerary to you." John raised an eyebrow and teased, "Right, Mycroft?"
"Quite right." Mycroft stood at the doorway. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"I'd rather not fall asleep like some unfortunate soul." Mycroft knew this place all too well. "Entering without an invitation from the owner is terribly impolite."
"I really wish more people understood that."
John stepped back and welcomed him. "Come in."
"I could say the same to you." Mycroft entered the Wick family home and remarked with a touch of nostalgia, "This place hasn't changed."
"Is your father well?"
"Wouldn't you know better than I do?"
John smiled and snapped his fingers.
The teapot came bouncing over as if it had sprouted legs.
Two cups landed on the table as the teapot hopped along.
"Aguamenti."
The teapot filled with hot water, and tea leaves floated into it. Soon, the fragrance of tea wafted out.
"Magic." Watching the scene, Mycroft couldn't help smiling. "How convenient."
"No different from technology." John's expression remained unchanged. "You can buy a coffee maker if you want."
"That isn't the same. Never mind, let's not get into that." Mycroft didn't pursue John's attempt to blur the distinction.
He fixed his gaze on John and said, "When we