Black Noir's laughter was not loud, but it was very clear in the quiet kitchen.
Soldier Boy The hand holding the coffee cup stopped in mid-air.
He turned his head, frowned and looked at Black Noir.
Back then in Nicaragua's camp, as long as he raised his voice even a little bit, this guy would be so frightened that he would tremble all over and not even dare to speak out.
But now, this punching bag that he had once trampled under his feet not only did not hide and tremble, but actually dared to stand there and laugh out loud.
The old gangster's pride started to take hold again.
"Why are you laughing? A Mute Dog that can only wag its tail dares to..."
Bang.
Before he could finish his words, John, who was sitting next to him and remained silent, knocked the glass milk glass in his hand heavily on the wooden dining table.
The crashing sound at the bottom of the cup interrupted Soldier Boy's taunting.
John's Azure eyes did not look at him, but concentrated on wiping the milk foam at the corner of his mouth with a tissue, and said in a calm voice:
"No one in this family can call him Mute Dog. If you call him one more time, I will punch out the bacon you just ate along with your stomach, and then throw you back into the sea to feed the fish."
The atmosphere at the table suddenly became subtle.
Reggie stopped grabbing the toast and turned into a blue afterimage. The next second, the only piece of sun egg left on Soldier Boy's plate disappeared.
Reggie was leaning against the refrigerator in the distance, chewing the eggs he grabbed while making faces at him.
Tommy didn't even raise his head, he just hooked his fingers casually.
Soldier Boy The butter knife at hand suddenly floated up on its own, spinning twice in mid-air, and the tip of the knife was aimed at him vaguely.
Even Annie and Kevin put down the orange juice in their hands and stared at him unblinkingly with their two pairs of big eyes.
Five children, five completely different feelings of oppression, were surprisingly consistent at this moment, all standing in front of Black Noir.
Soldier Boy froze in the chair.
He looked at these little monsters who made no secret of their hostility. The unfinished curse words stuck in his throat were like a hard stone stuck in his throat and he couldn't spit them out.
He is not afraid of fighting, but he knows that he will never get any advantage in fighting in this room.
What's more, Lynn, who had been silent all this time, was sitting on the sofa and slowly flipping through the newspaper.
Black Noir looked at the group of little guys standing in front of him, his eyes under the mask were full of emotion.
He ignored the stiff Soldier Boy, but walked forward, picked up the milk jug on the table, and refilled his cup of hot milk.
Holding the cup, he turned around and walked through the restaurant, walked back to the studio with relaxed steps, and closed the door ajar.
From beginning to end, Black Noir didn't even give Soldier Boy an extra look.
That kind of complete disregard and letting go is more frustrating than any vicious curse.
This is truly a reinvention.
The breakfast ended in a slightly strange atmosphere.
Lynn Folded the morning newspaper in his hand, drank the last sip of coffee in the cup, and stood up.
"Are you full?"
Lynn looked at Soldier Boy who was still sulking.
Soldier Boy snorted coldly, picked up the napkin and wiped the oil stains on his mouth randomly:
"It's just enough to fill my stomach. It's far worse than the high-end restaurants I ate at New York back then."
Lynn nodded, not taking his words to heart at all.
"Just eat as long as you're full. Backyard There are two carts of uncut logs piled against the wall. The fireplace has been burning a lot these past two days. Go and chop them all. The ax is behind the door of the utility room."
Lynn was clearing away the empty plates on the table and making arrangements casually, "By the way, dry the plates in the dishwasher and put them in the cupboard. Work carefully. If you break a plate, you won't be able to eat the mashed potatoes tonight."
Soldier Boy stood up suddenly and pushed the chair back with a harsh friction sound.
"Who are you asking to chop wood and wash dishes? I'm..."
"You are a penniless homeless man who borrows even your clean clothes."
Lynn interrupted him unceremoniously, picked up a stack of plates and walked to the sink, "Go to work. Or the door is over there, you can always go back to your sewer to savor the smell of a high-end restaurant."
Soldier Boy took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently.
He wanted to turn around and leave, wanted to smash the door with his fist.
But when he took a look at the howling cold wind and thick snow outside the window, and smelled the remaining aroma of bacon in the house, his two thick legs seemed to be filled with lead, and he could not move.
Ten minutes later.
In Long Island Estate's Backyard, there was a very rhythmic sound of chopping wood.
Soldier Boy took off the black flannel shirt and wore only gray cotton sweatpants.
He was naked from the upper body in the snow at more than ten degrees below zero, and white heat was rising from his strong muscles.
He was holding a heavy logging ax in his hand. Every time he swung it, the thick log would make a crisp cracking sound and split neatly into two halves.
The more he hacked, the more he felt a depression in his heart that could not be vented.
He didn't understand why he had fallen to this point. He was obviously the king of this era, and he was obviously the biological father of that little brat.
Just as he was splitting a particularly hard piece of oak, he stopped, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and subconsciously turned his head to look at the huge floor-to-ceiling window in the villa's living room.
A large piece of the condensation on the window was wiped off by the people inside.
Through a layer of transparent glass, he saw that in the bright and warm living room, Reggie and Tommy were sitting cross-legged on the carpet, holding the handle in their hands and yelling at the TV.
Annie is lying on the coffee table drawing.
John was leaning on the sofa, holding a thick storybook in his hand. The chubby Big Golden Retriever was resting his chin on John's lap and snoring.
Lynn was sitting on the single sofa, with a blanket covering his legs and a cup of hot tea in his hand, looking at the playing children with a smile.
Everything seemed so peaceful and ordinary.
Soldier Boy stood in the snow, the ax in his hand slowly hanging down.
He looked at the picture in the glass window. He couldn't hear the sounds inside, but he could see the most real smiles.
That sense of relaxation, where he didn't need to be wary of plots or prove how powerful he was, was something he had never experienced in his life.
He suddenly felt that the rough ax in his hand didn't seem so hot anymore.
He turned around, placed a new log on the stake, raised the axe, and struck it hard again.
Click.
The sound of cracking wood could be heard far away in the wind and snow, and the snow in the yard was still falling slowly.