The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

The lower half of the girl's face was shrunk in the scarf, but the exposed skin on her forehead and eyes was completely intact, with no trace of the scars. She crossed her arms tightly and tilted her head slightly, as full of coolness as ever.

"No, I just drank too much and was a little dizzy." Watson looked away from Michelle's face with a polite smile of greeting, and took another sip of wine: "When did you wake up?"

"Just two hours ago."

The girl walked to the railing and pulled off her scarf under Watson's gaze, finally revealing her whole face. Most of the scars have healed, especially on the base of the ears, and there is no trace of the large abscesses that once existed. Unfortunately, the long scar at the corner of the right cheek is too deep, and it still leaves an obvious enough scar. However, in Watson's view, this actually added a lot of heroism to Michela's demeanor.

"I think your whole person has changed."

"is it?"

"I mean, except for your face." Watson paused for a few seconds and considered the words: "I always felt gloomy from you before, you know, the kind of attitude that hates the world. But now If so, you look very energetic."

"You're talking more and more like an old man now."

While Michelle looked at the face in front of her, she raised the corner of her mouth and leaned into the other person's ear: "Of course, I have never forgotten how charming you are in a skirt, don't you think so? Wo-sen-tits?"

Watson looked into the girl's eyes, raised the brandy bottle with his left hand, and poured the remaining amount into his mouth. Then he slowly placed the empty bottle on the concrete pier, his eyes focused on the white neck in the gap in the scarf. Watson wanted to punish the overly excited blonde girl, and poking her neck with cold fingers was a good way——

The idea just appeared in my mind.

Extremely natural.

The girl was retracting her head at this moment, her beautiful blue eyes filled with smiles. Watson was very sure that if he made this impolite move, the other party would not only not mind, but might even shout softly and then start to resist with a smile. Just like when he tried to touch his head at the shooting range, his reason stopped moving again at this moment, and he realized his mistake.

"Bad boy."

Curling his fingers and flicking Michela's forehead, Watson took his hand back. After a few seconds of silence, the initially warm atmosphere was soon blown away by the cold wind. The girl left the railing and noticed the little wild cat on the bench not far away: "Oh, this little guy is still here?"

A few words rolled in Watson's throat, but when he finally said it, he changed the words: "Its nest must be nearby. I saw its parents last time."

"Meow!"

When the little wild cat saw a creature approaching, it jumped up and ran into the bushes with half a hot dog sausage in its mouth. Michela didn't intend to chase it, but just came to the bag of hot dogs, found one that was well packaged and started to eat: "I haven't had lunch yet, have you had it? How about we go find a restaurant together?" "

"of course."

Watson threw the empty wine bottle into the trash can with his backhand, his expression very natural. Watching Michela munching hot dog sausages with a contented expression, he had a vague feeling: The girl seemed to just want to answer questions by herself now, instead of taking the initiative to say things that ruined the atmosphere and mood...

She knew what I wanted to say.

"What are you doing standing still? Let's go!"

A soft call brought Watson back from his thoughts. Michela had already walked a few meters away and was waving in this direction.

......

The crowd is cheering.

There are only a few minutes left until midnight.

It's a crowded pub, with glasses clinking on every table. Christmas Eve in Le Havre was very lively. Fortunately, Watson and Michela arrived earlier, otherwise they would not have been able to get a seat. At this time, the two of them were locked in the double table in the corner, eating the barbecue bite after bite.

"You have just recovered, isn't it bad to drink so much?"

Seeing the girl pouring wine into the glass again, Watson couldn't help but wanted to stop her. But Michela slammed the empty wine bottle in her hand on the table with a 'pop', then raised her head and asked, "What did you say? It was too noisy and I didn't hear it!"

"......as long as you are happy."

Glancing at the pile of empty wine bottles and looking at the girl's slightly confused eyes, Watson could only raise his lips and toast to the other party. Nothing happened during the lunch with Michela - this description means that Watson was not able to change the topic he wanted to talk about. I don't know if it was because of Christmas, but the girl was very active. After the meal, she dragged him around for an entire afternoon. Seeing Michelle's high spirits, Watson thought it was better to let the girl continue to be happy for a few days.

The scene was really noisy, so the two didn't talk as often as usual. After a while, Michela put down the wine glass, put her head on one hand and looked over with a smile.

She was already starting to get drunk.

Watson looked at the girl in silence. The scar at the corner of his mouth was covered under the shadow of the lamp, making the smile in front of him look extremely gentle. A trace of playfulness danced between Michela's eyebrows, and in Watson's eyes, she gradually began to resemble the aristocratic princess she had been a few years ago.

"Does it look good?"

Michela folded her forearms alternately on the table, slowly moved her face closer, and her smile became more obvious. The girl's velvet jacket had long been taken off, revealing the light gray low-necked sweater underneath. The upper body lines were perfectly outlined, especially under the influence of her movements, the entire chest was hugged, and the few inches of plump snow were extremely attractive.

Drinkers in the main area began counting down.

The sound was so loud that Watson could only nod in response.

As the countdown reached zero, deafening cheers came from everywhere. As if watching a World Cup goal, countless arms held wine glasses high, starting a new round of competition - and the chaos began from this moment. One of the drinkers at the table didn't know if they were drunk, but they opened several bottles of champagne and sprayed foam on the people around them. Cursing sounded immediately, and then someone started to move their hands.

Without hesitation, the girl put her arms around Watson's neck and kissed him.

Bang!

A table was overturned, signaling another escalation of chaos.

But this has nothing to do with the man and woman in the corner for the time being.

Watson didn't close his eyes. There was a melee not far away. He was worried that some crazy guy would come to disturb them. There was a strong smell of wine on Michelle's tender lips. She even stood up and knocked several wine bottles to the ground with large movements. But compared to the movement that spread several meters away, this was nothing worth mentioning.

The two lips slowly parted, with a charming smile on Michela's face, then she picked up a wine bottle and smashed it hard on the face of the drunk man who rushed over. Another person approached. The girl took two steps forward to avoid the direct punch, kicked the opponent's leg hard, then pulled his hair and banged his head on the table.

"Merry Christmas Eve!"

Michela turned around, shouted this to Watson, and then joined the melee.

Poor tavern owner.

Watson shook his head, stood up and followed.

After half an hour.

Two more figures appeared in the remote alley.

"Okay, okay, you are very powerful. No, it's really not possible." Watson stopped Michela from trying to fire into the sky, snatched the M9 pistol with his hands, and stuffed it into his pocket inside. The two stayed in the tavern for a long time, and all the drunkards who made trouble were beaten to the ground. The police were called as a matter of course, but before that, Watson had already pulled the girl and slipped out of the back door.

Michela was already a little unsteady on her feet at this time.

On the way here just now, Watson dragged him almost the entire way. Fortunately, there were many drunk people on the street, so the two of them did not cause any commotion. However, when the confused girl saw the police car in the distance, she reached into her arms and pulled out a gun. Watson was so frightened that Watson quickly hugged her and ran into the alley.

"Why are you so beautiful?"

With a low murmur in her mouth, Michelle put her hands around Watson's shoulders and leaned in with her whole weight. She squinted her eyes and looked at it for a while, and her smile became intoxicating again: "And it's so cute..."

"Ah, yes, yes, thank you for the compliment."

No matter what a drunk person says, don't refute it.

Watson vaguely remembered his alcoholic father in his previous life. He would occasionally get drunk and cause trouble in public. At this time, he had to follow the other person's mood and coax him home with good words and persuasion. This experience also made Watson very disgusted with alcohol. However, as his social experience increased, he gradually became one of the people who occasionally used alcohol to relieve his sorrows.

"Hey!"

Holding her face with warm fingers, Michela turned the beautiful boy's head towards her: "Why don't you answer me?"

"Ah?" Watson, who had deserted, came back to his senses: "What did you ask just now?"

"I'm asking!" The girl stared, her coquettish tone gradually becoming serious: "Last time you said you would explain to me... the content of this explanation is not what I want to hear, right?"

"...probably not what you think."

"Then don't talk about it yet."

After kissing Watson's face, Michela rested her head on his shoulder again and stopped talking.

......

Click!

Watson picked up the disassembled RPD machine gun parts and began to oil them. In the corner of the table, there are several loaded 100-round 7.62x39mm non-dispersible ammunition belts. These are already the last reserve stocks. The non-detachable bullet belts seem to be easy to recycle, but they are also easy to break. During the last shootout in Paris, most of the used bullet belts were left at the scene.

When this mission is over, Watson plans to completely replace the RPD. After all, it was a weapon that was put into service more than fifty years ago. It was a blessing to be able to fire it smoothly. We really can't be too demanding. Touching the dense scratches on the surface of the receiver, he even felt that the old man might end his life this time.

I have so many inexplicable feelings today.

Looking back, Michela was sleeping on the bed behind her.

Two boots were lying crookedly on one side, and the chair next to them was still full of clothes. Although Michela was quite drunk, she was not to the point where she needed help taking off her shoes and getting her into bed. Because she was drunk, the girl didn't even take a shower. After returning to the basement, she climbed directly into Watson's bed without even asking him if he agreed - but there is a saying, for the body of the black light virus that does not need rest In fact, Watson never used this camp bed, it was just a cover-up decoration.

He could hear steady breathing.

This proved that Michela had fallen asleep completely.

After reloading the RPD light machine gun, Watson opened the cello case and took out the heavy death knell armor. Uncle Pierre from the mercenary black market made a lot of spare parts at that time, and the multi-layer nesting feature of the Deathstroke armor made the thickening operation very simple: just put a few more bulletproof inserts in it.

To be on the safe side, he wanted to thicken it.

Due to historical reasons, Africa, which has been war-torn for many years, still has a large number of Soviet weapons in circulation. In addition to the AK gun family, Deshka heavy machine guns using 12.7x108mm ammunition are also very common. This infantry nightmare is often combined with another classic - the Toyota pickup truck. Step on the brake, pull the gun bolt, yell, output wildly, hit and run, it's impossible to defend against. As for what will happen if this kind of anti-aircraft machine gun bullet hits someone?

Em...

While practicing shooting at the shooting range a while ago, Watson had secretly tried to fire at himself with a Glock 19. The 9mm Parabellum bullet can't even penetrate the body in its normal state, let alone its blackened and enhanced form. However, Watson has never been hit by something as big as the Deshka heavy machine gun, so he is not sure whether he can resist it.

Find a chance to give it a try.