"So here's the question: the taxi has four seats. How are nine of us supposed to fit?"
"Nine?"
Cable's keen, Goshawk-sharp eyes swept over the group on the spot. He looked at Deadpool as though he were the village idiot.
"Did some Japanese porn star teach you math? There are clearly only eight of us."
"What's with that look? Are you so old your eyesight's going? Isn't there another guy lying on the ground?"
Cable followed Deadpool's finger and saw a backpack lying there.
"There's someone there?"
Cable turned and asked the others standing nearby.
Domino shrugged, her tone uncertain. "Maybe."
Kaeya spread his hands. "Maybe not."
Hu Tao bent down to examine it for a couple of seconds, then straightened up. "Hmm, there could be."
Klee raised her little hand. "No, no, there really isn't."
Venti tilted his head, finding the exchange strangely familiar. He felt as though he'd heard it somewhere before.
Zhongli, who had been admiring the scenery, immediately identified the source. "Wanmin Restaurant."
"Oh, right!"
Venti slapped his thigh. "Aren't those lines from a comedy sketch in China's New Year's gala that they show on TV in Wanmin Restaurant's dining room every day? That bit's hilarious."
Cable couldn't follow their conversation. He simply stared at Deadpool, who kept patting the little backpack and bawling his eyes out.
"Invis-Man-my brother, Invis-Man! I'll remember you forever! Your heroic figure, your voice, your face-they'll live on in my heart forever! Rest in peace!"
Deadpool's voice was so grief-stricken that even Klee's heart clenched.
Holding Hu Tao's hand, Klee asked quietly, "Um, were Mr. Red-Dot and Brad Pitt really that close?"
"I don't know how close they were, but it's such a shame. There's a client lying right here, and I can't even take the job. Isn't that frustrating?" Hu