After listening to the recording twice, Nora Scott called Pedro Langley.
"Henry Chapman is going to the Scott family ho, I’m going over to be a good host." Nora explained.
"Oh." Pedro Langley responded lightly on the other end, paused briefly, and casually tossed out, "Jealousy gone?"
"..."
He still rembers that?
Seeing Nora not speaking, Pedro chuckled softly, and then asked, "Did you see the red packet?"
"Yeah."
"Any reply?"
"Want to go, depends on timing."
Nora gave a straightforward answer.
She liked electric music, a small hobby of hers.
Not many people knew about this hobby, but Pedro was one of them.
Pedro had given her tickets to an electric music festival happening next month in Anchel, featuring electric music artists from around the world, including many that Nora liked.
If nothing else ca up, Nora would definitely be happy to go.
"Alright," Pedro responded, "Let know once you’ve arranged everything."
"Will do."
Nora replied, paused for a mont, then said, "Hanging up."
"Nora." Pedro suddenly stopped her.
"Hmm?"
"Loughton asked to ask you when you’ll introduce to your dad?"
"Who is he to..." Nora dragged her tone, suddenly laughed, and asked back, "Didn’t Easton privately take my dowry for himself?"
"Don’t talk so recklessly." Pedro’s serious tone held a hint of laughter, "It’s called a gift."
Nora snorted, "You gifted my dowry to yourself?"
"Yeah."
Pedro continued to act shalessly.
Nora’s lips twitched.
Just as she was about to retort, Pedro added, "Don’t worry, I’ll prepare a bride price accordingly."
Nora was made to laugh in anger, "Are you really your mom’s biological son?"
How could his mom speak so pleasantly, but every sentence from him made people want to beat him up?
"Absolutely genuine."
"..."
Nora was too lazy to argue with him, said a few random words, and hung up the phone.
She was afraid she’d get so mad at Pedro that she’d drive right into a ditch, and that would really worsen Henry’s condition, which would be a sin.
*
Henry Chapman carried a main character’s aura wherever he went, always having a group of fans willing to serve him.
For the first two visits, Michael Quinn wasn’t present; this was their first eting.
After Henry stated his purpose, Michael, who usually took a long ti to start drawing under the title of "Little Prodigy", agreed without any hesitation.
– He just asked for a few autographs from Henry.
Back then, there were several accomplices when they "robbed" Henry, and it would take several days to draw. Since Michael had nothing to do at ho, he arranged a ti and place with Henry to spend ti daily drawing.
After all, it had been five years; neither Nora nor Henry were in a hurry, allowing Michael to take his ti.
But Michael was surprisingly earnest, usually being lazy and procrastinating whenever he did anything, yet this ti he was exceptionally punctual, completing and delivering the portrait to Nora ahead of ti.
"It’s been five years, does he really rember it clearly?"
Michael sat in a chair, biting an apple, leaning against the back, and questioned Nora by turning sideways.
Looking through the portraits one by one, Nora lazily replied, "Didn’t you already draw them?"
"He said it’s like that, but I haven’t seen them." Michael replied unhurriedly, "It’s too incredible; I have to question it reasonably."
The doubt was indeed reasonable.
Five years ago, a few glances during a frantic chase, several faces, and yet rember them clearly... quite amazing.
"You could imitate Sir Quinn’s paintings at ten years old, isn’t that amazing?" Nora lifted her eyelids.
"..."
Michael blinked his eyes.
He was convinced with just one sentence from her.
"Can you find them?" Michael sensibly changed the topic.
Nora replied blandly, "No idea, if they’re still in the profession, maybe soone could find them."
At that ti, there were no surveillance caras on the road, it was desolate, and no evidence was left behind.
The police investigation back then yielded no results. Searching now would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Taking another bite of the apple, Michael chewed slowly, then suddenly asked, "Have you found the person I asked you to draw a year ago?"
"No."
Nora shrugged.
"Tsk," Michael waved his hand, "Then these guys definitely have no hope."
"..."
Nora gave him a cold stare.
"Speaking of..." Stretching his long legs forward, one foot on the ground, Michael leaned back, the front legs of the chair floating of the ground, he tilted backward halfway, and raised his eyebrows at Nora, "Was it after you ’Winter Swam’ and discharged from the hospital that you found the portrait to draw? Was that person the reason you ’Winter Swam’?"
Nora’s expression remained unchanged, "None of your business."
Sneering, Michael leisurely asked, "Can’t I care about you a little?"
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