The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

Early morning of August 8th, Carter Manor.

Kara.

The metal coffin handle was pulled, making a dull thumping sound, but even with dozens of people gathered in the silent cemetery, the sound of raindrops could still be heard. Watson maintained a solemn expression, but the stone brick road under his feet was not smooth, making the coffin-carrying team walk a little shaky. He could only quietly use the tentacles on his face to adjust the mask to continue to cover his face.

Henry Griffith.

The new tombstone was engraved with the name of the owner of the coffin. The style looked so ordinary, just like the old butler's silent and peaceful life. He was so taciturn that Watson couldn't even remember what Griffith's voice sounded like when he recalled it now.

"Come on kid, be careful."

A call from the front brought Watson back to his senses. The people carrying the coffin with him were either uncles or uncles, which made him look very young. And many eyes were often focused on him. Watson thought, these people might be wondering when the Carter family had a baby.

As the coffin was lowered into the pit, Watson turned and walked towards Peggy Carter in the center of the crowd. The old lady's face looked calm at first glance, but when you got closer, you could see that the grief in her eyes was almost turning into tears.

But she didn't cry.

Late in the night of the previous day, the old butler Griffith passed away in his sleep without any signs before, which caught everyone off guard. After receiving the news, Watson of course put aside other things and ran to help Peggy deal with related matters.

My niece Sharon Carter left England in the middle of last month. In the late 90s, it was not as convenient as in the early 21st century. It was difficult to return immediately by civilian transportation. In fact, the girl is still waiting for a flight to London, and the earliest she can arrive is probably tomorrow noon.

In accordance with the old butler's wishes, the funeral did not last too long. After the last round of funeral guests left for their return journey, Watson took a shovel and went to bury Griffith's coffin himself.

With his strength and skills, he naturally had no worries about getting his trouser legs dirty.

The uncles and grandfathers who accompanied her in carrying the coffin did not leave, but they were indeed too old to do the work of shoveling soil and burying the coffin. Watson made it clear that he did not need to help, so Peggy did not even hire any workers, and the others just watched him finish the work.

Probably less than ten minutes.

This was the result of Watson not shoveling at full speed out of respect.

After filling the last handful of soil, he felt a little empty in his heart. This simple mechanical work made him very engaged on the one hand, and very relaxed on the other. After a while of being in a daze, Watson had to get out of this comfortable state of emptying his mind and return to Peggy.

The old lady didn't say anything, but just hugged him tightly. Seeing the intimacy between the two, the others said goodbye and left at the right time. Michelle also nodded to Watson, turned and walked towards the house at the back. Only the sound of drizzling rain enveloped the silent cemetery.

"...why don't we go inside and sit down?"

After staying for two minutes, seeing that Peggy seemed to be asleep, Watson was a little worried that she would catch a cold.

"Who else can I send away next? Watson."

Peggy half opened her eyes and asked back softly.

"Don't say that. You still have me, and you still have Steve. Even if you are too old to walk, we are still here. At least Steve will be fine. Anyway...if he doesn't wake up this year, I will slap him twice."

"You kid..." Peggy raised her face and kissed Watson's forehead, then hugged him tightly: "To be honest, I don't want to go back to this house. As soon as I step into the door, I will think of when Gerry was still there... I'm really not used to not having his figure in the corridor anymore, I..."

"I know, Peggy. I regret not coming here more often during this period. I thought I still had a lot of time, but now I will never see him again... I still remember the last time Gerry taught me how to cook, he really spoke very little, didn't he? But I know that people like Gerry will show their feelings through actions."

"Ah."

Finally, I heard a sob: "Oh... Watson, I really miss him..."

According to Watson's experience, Peggy's mental state will probably fluctuate between grief and relief in the next few days. Maybe the old lady will talk to him about the past later, but who knows tomorrow when she wakes up and eats breakfast and finds that the old housekeeper is no longer by her side, she will be sad again.

After sitting for another half an hour, Peggy finally agreed to return to the house, but just as Watson expected, after stepping into the door frame and looking at the empty corridor, the old lady suddenly covered her face. Watson was hugged tightly again before he could say anything, and he had to stop completely.

Michela retracted her head around the corner.

On the way here, Watson said that he would stay with the old lady for a few days, so other recent affairs can basically be considered temporarily interrupted.

The problem is that Nisha still needs to be coordinated.

After all, she was the one who summoned this vampire. Although she could indeed abandon her, it would seem ungenerous. Miss Butterfly Knife did not want to be a jealous, envious and temper-throwing girlfriend. She wanted to be an important pillar of Watson's future career, and now was the time to share important tasks with him.

Then you shouldn't bring in personal feelings.

Besides...the vampire has been very honest until now and hasn't done anything out of the ordinary.

Why should I be on guard against thieves?

The woman reached into her suit jacket, sent Watson a text message on her cell phone, and walked quickly down the hallway.

There was another reason that drove her away.

The Le Mans 850 motorcycle was parked in the garage. Under the light, the cobalt blue shell reflected a unique metallic luster. If it weren't for this motorcycle, Michelle's impression of the old butler Henry Griffith would be even shallower. Based on her personal experience, it is indeed difficult for her to have any strong feelings for ordinary people now.

Especially men.

And this Le Mans 850 is the intersection between Griffith and himself.

When Michelle heard that the old housekeeper mentioned that he would give the motorcycle to himself in his will, he stood in the corner, facing the gazes from all around him, and suddenly had a strong urge to run away. He and the other party were not even friends, so how could he accept such a gift?

Perhaps as death approaches, many people will not care much about material things, but no matter what, Michelle still felt guilty - especially after realizing that she could never repay this gift, she couldn't help but start to regret it. Why didn't she talk more with the old butler when she had so much time before?

Even just a few more words of thanks would be nice.

How would Watson see himself? How would Peggy see herself?

Michela stood there for a long time looking at the motorcycle. Suddenly, Watson's voice came from behind him: "You don't want to race in the rain, do you? Although the rain is not heavy, the ground is already wet."

"...Do you remember Gerry's will?"

"what happened?"

"He said he wanted to give me this car." Miss Butterfly Knife turned her head to the side, avoiding the other person's gaze. "I didn't expect him to do this. My relationship with Gary... you know, a large part of it actually came from you."

"Maybe Gerry really cares about you." Watson walked forward and stretched out his hand to smooth his girlfriend's hair that was wet from the drizzle. "You know what? Peggy is the same. She just asked me to come out and find you. Do you think she has other purposes?"

"No, I..."

Michelle had to turn around and face her boyfriend, but she couldn't finish her words: "I just..."

"We didn't get a chance to thank Gerry again."

"......Um."

Watson also saw Michella's reaction when she heard the will, but he did not continue the topic immediately. He just stepped forward and touched the cobalt blue body of the Le Mans 850: "Are you really going to help Nisha?"

"I don't want to stay here any longer." Michelle crossed her arms and couldn't help asking, "Do you really think I should accept this motorcycle? I think I should leave it here. I can't have it."

“It’s a nice car, isn’t it?”

Watson patted the seat. "Maybe Gerry would like to see it continue to run on the road, too."

"If he chooses to give the car to you, I'll feel better." The woman frowned, but quickly looked away: "This makes me feel like... a willful and selfish little girl, Watson, I hate this feeling."

She actually understands it all.

Watson had seen Michelle's reaction when she heard the will. After hearing what his girlfriend said, he realized that there was no need to explain it to her any further. It would be better to give Michelle some time alone: ​​"Then leave the car here for now. Maybe one day in the future you will change your mind."

"Well, thank you for coming to stay with me."

After giving her boyfriend a kiss, Michella walked towards her Mercedes SUV and quickly drove out of the manor.

I have to worry about everything.

Sighing, Watson put his hands in his pockets and walked back, ready to go see old lady Peggy. Recently, he was less and less willing to play a male identity, because being a woman was too easy. Jessica only needed to play music, and Mrs. Viper only needed to tease men and women without any scruples.

As for Miss Watson...

This cow has even less worries.

That was the truth. After all, all she had to do every day was act crazy and flirt, but Mr. Watson had a lot to worry about.

Why!!!!

Thinking about it, things still need to be done, Watson came to the outer corridor again, and walked towards the room where Peggy last stayed. The old butler Griffith left many traces of life in this house. For example, although there was a chandelier installed on the ceiling, he still liked to light candles most of the time.

For example, now, there is a row of candles neatly arranged on the walls on both sides of the corridor, swaying constantly with the breeze. The whole picture is full of a sense of the supernatural, as if to comfort the soul of the deceased old man, which is of course also Peggy's special arrangement.

Watson walked among the candlelight, his leather shoes stepping on the carpet, moving forward neither hurriedly nor slowly.

Thunder soon sounded outside the house.

Before long, it got louder and louder.

A sharp wind suddenly came from nowhere, blowing out a large number of candles, and the entire corridor suddenly fell into darkness. A figure appeared at the end, with a candle burning on the candlestick in his hand. Strangely, although the candle flame was swaying, it never went out.

As the distance got closer, the British butler uniform on him became clearer and clearer: "Miss, it's almost time for you to have breakfast."

"Sorry to trouble you, Afu."

Bruce paused and said, "I'll be in the restaurant soon."

"of course."

After watching the butler Alfu holding a candle disappear at the end of the corridor, Batwoman stood by the corridor window and silently looked at the Gotham sky in the thunderstorm.