The library seemed to have become a real library, utterly quiet save for the sound of pages turning.
"Burp!"
With no clear goal, Bobo read a book alongside Deathstroke. Every time Deathstroke finished one, Bobo took a swig of soda. Before long, he had drunk too much, and acid rose in his stomach.
The main problem was that Deathstroke read far too quickly. He picked up a book, and then there came a sound like sawing wood—screech—and he was done. To the ape, it felt like watching primitive animation, with the images in the comics becoming disjointed, distorted flashes of light and shadow.
Though he was drinking soda, the ape felt dizzy, as if he had downed strong liquor before riding a roller coaster at an Amusement Park.
"You drank too much." Deathstroke glanced at the dozen or so empty bottles by Bobo's feet. Wearing Batman's face made it inconvenient to crack too many jokes, but his eyes more than conveyed the rest of his meaning.
After drinking that much, didn't he need to use the bathroom? But going to the bathroom meant being alone. The Strange Hands under the enemy's command had not appeared for a while, but they were super fast.
The ape had not felt much of an urge before, but after Deathstroke said that, he really did feel it. He had unknowingly drunk too much water, and now he genuinely had a need.
But when he turned to look at the pitch-black, narrow aisle between the two rows of shelves, then recalled the malicious amusement in Deathstroke's eyes, he truly did not dare go to the bathroom alone!
He definitely could not stray too far from Deathstroke, or there would be no safety at all.
After thinking it over, he picked up an empty bottle from