Chapter 235 Daily life in a three-person apartment (Part 1)

"Don't tell Stark, you know what I mean." When we were about to part, Salomon said to Agent Romanov, "If I let that guy mess around, he will definitely take me to a noisy bar, Then he'll order me mocktail after mocktail and get so drunk that he ends up throwing up in his crotch. Or worse, he'll take me to see fat Hawaiian dancers and party and drink and Smoking piss, then getting drunk and throwing up in his crotch. Worst of all, he'll take me to Las Vegas, lose millions of dollars in one night, invite the whole audience to drink, And then get very drunk and end up vomiting in his crotch unconscious."

"Why are the results you said so similar?" Natasha asked with a smile, "Why do you always think that Stark will spit in his crotch."

"Because I let him do it. Speaking of it, I don't know if Nick Fury has a problem with his brain. He actually thinks that my psychological problem is serious. So he found Steve Rogers and asked him He enlightened me, but Steve couldn’t communicate with me, so he went to Tony again.” Salomon sighed, “Actually, Stark’s behavior is not bad, and Captain Rogers will most likely sign me up for the boyhood competition. The Army, some weird Catholic order or something like that, or some local church tv show, what else can he do? Teach me boxing? He might Can't beat me? Or do I need God's permission to do anything?"

"Actually, Captain Rogers is not as old-fashioned as you think. He just hasn't found the way of life in this era. Now is a time of peace, and it is not so easy for him to recover." Agent Romanov was amused, "In his era , these organizations are not so bad. Moreover, his treatment of heretics is not as strict as you think, and he doesn't care about religious issues."

"Priests have liked little boys for hundreds of years. Can American priests be better? I don't think Protestantism is any better than the Roman Church. Also, I'm an unbeliever, fuck God, I Got a bill with God! I don't even know if my biological dad is that guy! Sometimes I think it would be better if my biological dad was some guy in jail. F*uck ! Everyone's life is a torment, and sometimes I wish I hadn't been born!" The mystic drank the hot tea after a long conversation. He stared at the female spy's beautiful pale green eyes, and slowly relaxed.

She was also looking into Salomon's eyes, as if she wanted to find out something.

"What about you, Natasha? Have you recovered? Has Nick Fury had a psychiatrist for you?"

"No." Agent Romanov's smile faded away. She looked at the tea cup pretending not to care, shrugged, "But I'm an agent, I can solve these small problems."

"Hmm, that seems to be because I'm more dangerous than you, otherwise that idiot wouldn't be so restless. As for you, poor fellow, you haven't put the pieces of your mind back together yet, Sooner or later you'll be schizophrenic."

Agent Romanov shrugged again, saying he didn't care. Although she might care, she wouldn't show it, and Salomon had no way of knowing what she was thinking. He is a polite man, and he will not use magic to probe other people's minds just because of this kind of thing.

"Okay~ That's it." Seeing that she didn't want to say more, the mystic also gave up the topic, "Go to the fucking boy scouts, go to the fucking bar, I've never been to it, and I don't want to go, I Don't like American life - parties, parties, never ending parties, drinking, fucks, tattoos, loud life is boring, I always thought that Americans have a button on the back, just press them Will laugh non-stop, and then press it again, it will be hysterical, and some strange mental illnesses will occur after pressing it a few more times. Phobia of unfamiliar environments? Have you heard of this disease?

Ha, I guess the brains of those stupid Americans may not be as good as the difference engine! As for Nick Fury, I even doubt whether his brain can perform four arithmetic operations! If I really caused trouble, he would have died long ago! And that Alexander Pierce, I'm going to strangle him with his guts sooner or later! You remember to tell damned Nick Fury that if he disturbs my quiet life again, I'll take his skull off. That wouldn't kill him, but it would give him some peace before S.H.I.E.L.D. repaired his skull. "

Bad-mouthing your boss is always fun, and lighter topics put Agent Romanov back at ease, and of course, good food also helped. "Are you ready?" Agent Romanov cut a small piece of the fruit syrup pie on Salomon's plate, put it in his mouth, and blinked playfully. Her emotions changed extremely quickly, just like when she was performing a mission. This is the result of her fragmented mind—every sentence she said was true in her cognition, and the lie detector was useless to Natasha. Useful.

"You can't come to ask for my help without a gift. I know you, Salomon, and you're ready for anything." Agent Romanov held out his hand. "Gift, little gentleman."

"Of course." The mystic took a shoebox from the artificial man. He opened the box, and inside was a pair of suede high-heeled shoes decorated with simple bows, "Salvatore Ferragamo's high-heeled shoes, the upper is made of mulberry silk and viscose fabric, with tubular piping and water snake leather. This is your shoe, Natasha."

"How much did you spend?"

"Not much, fourteen hundred dollars, I bought it at the side of the road." The mystic said, "The dollar is just a piece of paper to me, and I am very happy that the waste paper can come in handy."

"Your mouth is so sweet."

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"You spent fourteen hundred dollars." Joan of Arc was sitting on a chair in the dining room. She was wearing glasses, holding a ledger and a pencil in her hand, and drew stroke by stroke. The Cheshire cat is sprawled out on her lap, motionless, as if enjoying sleep. This stupid cat has fallen in love with that feeling since going to a SPA. Salomon doesn't know whether the Cheshire cat likes soft music or nice aromatherapy, or simply likes the feeling of being covered with cucumber slices . But in any case, after maintenance, its coat color is much brighter, and it likes to cling to Joan more and more. It seems that it has forgotten who sent it to the pet hospital.

"What did you buy?" Joan pointed the tip of the pencil at Salomon like a rapier, and her question was as sharp as the rapier. Only Bayonetta was still sitting on the sofa watching the play—it was a common occurrence in this apartment, a household chore for a family of three, and there was always one person who could watch the play.

"Gift." The mystic replied with a smile, "The gift is paid."

"What gift needs fourteen hundred dollars? I know you don't care about dollars, but that's my salary, the money I put into our life fund!" Joan seemed a little annoyed, and her anger fell on her knees The Cheshire cat looked up suspiciously, then licked her finger.

"I pay the utility bills for this apartment, and neither you nor Celesa care about these trivial matters!"

"My dear Joan, why don't you use my bank card? I don't even bother to count the numbers on it. You know the password, and Bayonetta and I entrusted you to manage the bank account. In addition, the community I was the one who attended the meeting. Nothing else, just to mention it."

"That's your money!"

"It's yours too, it's the money to keep me going in the secular world, but do you think I care? We're a family, that's what you said, what Bayonetta said, and I think so too. It's a shared responsibility as a family, so you can enjoy the dollars in my account to your heart's content and spend them however you want."

"That's right." Bayoneta fanned the flames, "The little guy is so generous, why don't you appreciate it?"

"You haven't married him yet, Theresa!"

"It's almost there, dear Jeanne, it's been ten years anyway. But we still want to hear Athena's thoughts, what did she say to you?"

"I……"

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