Old Zheng wanted a whiff, but Su Ming had not brought Wen Xiang with him for the time being. Still, he had Little Cousin.
So he pushed Deadpool toward Zheng Xian, gently fanning the air with one hand and sending that rich scent, that warmth, drifting toward him.
"Smell it."
"Bleurgh!" Zheng Xian staggered back several steps until his back hit the edge of the desk, his face full of misery. "If you don't want to tell me, then don't. Why are you using Biochemical Weapons?"
Sniff, sniff. Deadpool raised an arm and smelled his armpit, then reached into his pants and rummaged around a few times before pulling out his hand and giving it a sniff.
"Strange. I don't smell like anything. I'm very clean."
Daisy merely rolled her eyes and walked over to sit on the sofa.
He really could not smell his own body odor. The stench on him was practically forming tangible black smoke, and he called that odorless? And what was that mosaic-like lump on his hand?
Su Ming brushed Deadpool aside, leaned against the desk with Zheng Xian, and tossed him a cigarette.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you. It's that I have no evidence. Saying this might be a conspiracy is entirely based on a warrior's instincts. From the moment he put his wife in a motel bathtub, to the fact that he never covered his face during any of his attacks, there's something wrong with that."
The director of the S.P.E.A.R. Agency caught the cigarette, hurriedly lit it, and took several deep drags before finally recovering. The tobacco smell suppressed Deadpool's body fragrance as he began to think.
"When you put it that way, it does make sense. Every time he finished a job, he decisively escaped through drainage