On the way back to Rhine Apartnts from The Ninth Institute.
Amadeus Yancey received a phone call from Jackson Wafford, listened quietly to the entire story, and then hung up with a frosty expression.
Alfred Garland, who was driving, sensed the low pressure inside the car and glanced back through the rearview mirror, asking cautiously, "Amadeus, what’s wrong?"
Amadeus’s face doesn’t look quite right!
Amadeus squinted slightly, pressed the car window button, letting the fresh wind blow in from outside, his brow carried a hint of aggression and cold aloofness. He spoke coldly after a while, "Is there soone like Mateo Gordon in the circle?"
"Mateo Gordon?" Alfred couldn’t react imdiately upon hearing the na.
Who is that?
He couldn’t recall who the other person was for a mont, but vaguely felt that the na sounded familiar, as if he had seen it often sowhere.
After contemplating for a mont, he finally rembered where he had seen the na before and blurted out, "Ah, I know this person. Doesn’t he get along quite well with Ms. Zachmann? I often see them interacting in the big group."
Not ntioning Caryn Zachmann was better; talking about her seed to lower the temperature inside the car another degree.
Alfred felt sothing was amiss and asked again cautiously, "Amadeus, why did you suddenly ntion him? Did he do sothing?"
Amadeus rested his elbow on the edge of the car window, his brows extrely cold, appearing lazily and casually, as if he had a good temper and was easy to talk to: "Not really."
Alfred: "???"
If Mateo Gordon hasn’t done anything, why would Amadeus think of him?
He hadn’t had a chance to ask.
Then he heard the man’s deep and husky voice, "He’s just had enough of life and wants to die."
Alfred: "..."
What did Mateo Gordon actually do? To provoke Amadeus into such a big rage, that’s so skill!
Amadeus ignored him, picked up the phone thrown aside with one hand, opened the group he hadn’t chatted in for a long ti, found Govert Griffin’s WhatsApp, and sent a ssage: "Help find out where Mateo Gordon is."
*
On the other side, Govert Griffin received the ssage, his brow twitched as he stood up from the sofa, holding the phone with a slightly tense expression.
"What are you doing, acting secretively and scaring the hell out of ?" Sadam Vinson was sitting beside him playing on his phone, and when Govert suddenly stood up, he got distracted, and the character in the ga was K.O.’d with a single shot. Sadam turned around and couldn’t help but curse, "Damn!"
He tossed the phone aside, his face turning angry blue, snapping furiously, "I’m not playing anymore, not playing anymore, what a damn stupid ga, all fucking ambushing ."
Brian Bonette sat opposite him, shaking a glass of Icelandic Black Tea in his hand, the ice cubes in the glass clinked together, making cool sounds. He smiled, looking courteous and easy-going, "Didn’t Nathalie Quinlan draw a Dragon Sniper for you?"
Sadam crossed his legs under the table, rolling his eyes scornfully, still discontented, "Those fools in the ga saw I had a Dragon Sniper, each one ca over to kill , acting like there’s a reward for doing it."
"I was even crawling to advance, they still didn’t let go!"
Brian watched him playing a ga with such righteous indignation, sowhat speechless, conveniently using the glass to cover twitching corners of his mouth, looking at Sadam, suddenly rembering the words Caryn spoke over the phone in the morning, was pondering how to plead.
"By the way, what did you want to see for today?" Sadam, done with the ga, beat him to it, gave him a rather strange look, saying, "You’re usually so busy I don’t even catch a shadow; what Drove you to find for a drink today?"
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