[Titanic] Ticket

Carl had a separate box in the theater. He didn't come often, but he continued to pay enough rent. When they entered the box under the guidance of the waiter, the table was already set with fresh fruit and red wine. Delicate and pretty, even insinuatingly asking if they wanted his company all the way, and eagerly saying he didn't mind a threesome - Carl ruthlessly kicked him out.

The opera will start at eight o'clock. The curtains of the box on the second floor have not been opened. The light is dim yellow. The clarity is not high, but it looks ambiguous. They get very close, Lester smiles, the light is warm Wrapping him, Carl stretched out his hands to press the back of his head and kissed him, their tongues stuck together, as if someone had accidentally poured half a bottle of glue up, and they had no intention of separating in a short time.

Someone came in from the outside. Seeing this scene, he bowed his head and cursed. Karl jumped up almost instantly, took out his pistol from his pocket and pointed it at the uninvited guest.

The latter raised his arms lazily. He was tall enough to block the entire door. He wore a three-piece waiter suit and a silk top hat that had obviously been taken from an actor's desk in the backstage. Half arched back and backed away, indicating that he had no intention of resisting, until the whole person was pressed against the wall, Karl's tense fingers were slightly loosened.

Lester took a few hard glances at the dim light before confirming that this person was the former owner of the crepe shop—it was also ten minutes ago that Alex confided to him bitterly, "I lost him." The one" - Bell Augustus.

"I don't think you should come here." Lester said pointedly. He didn't let Carl put down his gun. He could see that the man in front of him was quite dangerous. He was stronger than a few years ago. Look It looked very ordinary, as if he could disappear into the crowd at any time, but Lester smelled the smell of blood and gunpowder smoke. He seemed to have just survived a certain battlefield, and he didn't have enough time to adjust himself to his usual state.

"...let him put down the gun, I promise I won't hurt you." Bell said in a deep voice. He looked at his watch anxiously. Three minutes had passed since their confrontation. He looked at Lester's unmoved face. He said again, "I can't bear to ask him to put his gun down."

He stared at Karl vigilantly, until the capitalist hesitated and slowly lowered his arms, Bell heaved a sigh of relief and slowly squatted down by the wall, crumpled his black silk top hat and stuffed it back into his pocket, exposing the With short, prickly hair, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and his voice became hoarse because of nervousness: "...I have nowhere to go. I don't want to see him, I don't want to quarrel with him. Let's count, we can Call it a friend, Mr. Roland."

"You still call me sir." Lester said sarcastically, and Carl sat down beside him, maintaining a long distance between them, but Carl still held the gun in order to be able to deal with any emergencies .

"I don't expect a peaceful conversation atmosphere. But just two hours—" He paused, "Please, Mr. Roland."

Lester was silent for a while, he glanced at Carl, and the latter gave him a look like "you can take full responsibility", "... I hope you can keep your promise, Mr. Augustus."

"Of course, I can." Bell nodded impatiently. He took a few steps closer and sat down on the edge of the sofa. The scar was invisible—it was at a dangerous angle, just short of scratching his eyeball.

Carl tensed up again. He didn't think that this kind of injury would appear on a good person. Bell was undoubtedly a capable and not very safe person—it might even be extremely dangerous, after all, he was still standing here, so It means that those who opposed him before have gone to hell to report.

Bell grinned: "Relax, Mr. Hockley, I know you. By the way, you are also on the reward list. Someone offered 1 yuan to buy your life. I didn't accept it. After all, Mr. Roland and us Kind of friendly - although sometimes I don't know if that's the root cause of my situation."

Lester frowned: "Mr. Augustus, please do me a little bit of fairness for this poor man. I have never done anything harmful to the world. I sent Alex to the theater to study. Let's vote unanimously." , It was you who chose the wrong path.”

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take the job," Bell said, and now it was his turn to draw out his tone full of sarcasm, "otherwise I could choose any way to kill Mr. Hockley, so that you can feel the same way."

"Well, come now, sir. Even before I die, I'll tell the story of the ungrateful farmer and the snake. Let me guess, even if you walk in the dark, you will never like this reputation Isn't it?" Lester smiled, his gray eyes were full of sharp aggression, Bell reluctantly raised his hand in surrender, "I swear you can do well in that damn place, just with your mouth."

"Tell me why you are here." The war between them stopped for a while, and Carl asked aloud. Bell glanced at him curiously. Since he entered the room, the young capitalist has been silent, but it is not ugly. It turned out that he was the one who made the big idea between them.

Bell subconsciously sat upright, and seriously thought about the answer to this question from multiple angles, but in the end he just sighed and cast his eyes on the tightly closed curtain—as if staring at an endless despair The abyss: "I just came to see him, I'm leaving for Germany the day after tomorrow, a big deal."

At this moment, Karl couldn't say anything, after all, Bell's expression looked completely calm and indifferent-but it was this indifference that gave birth to a different kind of cold thing, which was despair, and they all felt Got it, this big man seems to be desperate, he obviously doesn't have the slightest confidence in the task he said, but he still chooses to complete it, probably because there are no more things he is nostalgic for here.

"You can take back the crepe shop, the key is under the third flower pot at the door, the deed is in the safe, and the password is Alex's birthday." Bell shrugged, "I won't go back, and neither will you." You know, there's no reason for me to go back."

At [-]:[-], the curtains were pulled up, bright lights shone in, the first floor was full of people, they stood at the railing, saw a few familiar faces in the crowd, and a well-mannered young man came out from the next box A man, slender, with soft features, with waist-length blond hair tied neatly with blue satin, holding a glass of red wine, as if he was in a banquet somewhere, every inch of his face was in place.

"Mike Randolph, a bumbling guy." Carl snorted coldly. The man turned his head, as if he had received an unexpected surprise, and greeted him with an extremely exaggerated gesture. The capitalist raised his chin absently, Perfunctory to the extreme.

"He's interested in you." Lester pointed out sharply.

"He's interesting to all the good-looking people in the world," Bell said, hiding in the shadows, wearing his masking hat again, staring at Mike with cold black eyes peeking out from under the upturned brim of his hat. Randolph, probably thinking of how to kill him quietly.

"That's right, if the thing you're thinking about is what I think, I'll solve the follow-up problems for you." Carl said, his expression could even be called gratified.

"Before you sit down and come up with a workable plan, I have to remind you that the opera has begun." Lester knocked on the railing, "<Hamlet>—this is more important than listening to you plan how to kill Mike Randolph boring."

Three bewildered characters stood in the box on the second floor and enjoyed an opera that was completely uninteresting to them. Lester leaned on Carl's arms and closed his eyes a little tiredly. Dolph jumped and made noise like a clown, and finally even burst into tears. When Laertes came on stage, he was so happy that he almost jumped out of the second floor.

"Mason's Hamlet is pretty good," Carl said, and Lester looked up. "You know that."

"My mother loved it. She has a whole set of <Shakespeare> in her possessions. If you've ever noticed, Catherine keeps them on the top shelf in the reading room." Carl kissed his forehead, " There was something about him that was desperate and hateful, and full of emotion, enough to move those in the know. Laertes is going to stab him, and they're going to die here—"

Alex on the stage was wearing an exaggerated costume, and another actor held the gleaming silver sword—the top was a little cobalt blue, and it had pierced his clothes, but no one Realizing that something was wrong, the audience broke down in tears over the scene.

A huge roar resounded through the audience, it happened almost instantly, Bell snatched Carl's gun, pulled the safety, aimed at the sword and pulled the trigger mercilessly, the music stopped abruptly , the whole theater was silent.

Bell whispered "Sorry" and then slid quickly into the darkness. Lester heard a slight noise and ran out of the box.

After a few seconds or so, there were cries and noisy talking on the first floor. Many people's faces were full of panic and anger. They loudly demanded that the person who shot the gun should be arrested. The back row ran onto the stage—presumably the theater manager, begging for calm as he wiped sweat with a handkerchief.

The actors huddled together like frightened quail, and the girl who played Ophelia was crying with her partner—the bullet was too close to them, except for Alec. Si, as if he had suddenly come to life, he rushed into the backstage holding the sword that was broken in half from the middle.

Carl led Lester's hand downstairs, and the director of the theater hurried over to apologize to them: "We have notified the police, and they will find out the truth soon. Please give us a chance, Mr. Hockley."

"It's impossible. We don't have to pay for your mistakes." Carl said eagerly and coldly. The director of the theater was sweating profusely under his stare, and begged them to stay, but the capitalists didn't buy his account at all. Randolph, who was a step behind them, sneered, "Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Hockley, I saw the truth. The criminal is hiding in your box, you know—or did you plan it?"

The person in charge of the theater looked at Carl suspiciously. Mike Randolph stepped forward, put his right hand on Carl's shoulder, and said softly: "You should give us an explanation, shouldn't you? Or there are some other ways that can To spare you this trouble, what do you think of my proposal?"

He was about half a head lower than Carl, because he had a little wine, his cheeks were flushed, showing a slender neck, he licked his lips, his face was provocative, Mike Randolph is a very handsome young man , it is not difficult to understand his omnipotence in the New York social circle - as Bell said, his lover is said to have reached double digits.

Carl shakes off the hand that was trying to sneak under his suit, and Mike Randolph doesn't look too angry, his dark blue eyes glowing—like a hyena on its prey, full of ambition and passion. Wanting to conquer, Lester pulled Carl behind him, kicked the young man to the ground, and slammed his knee on his back, Randolph moaned in pain, Lester pulled his hair , said indifferently: "Don't touch him, Randolph, next time, I will make you regret all this happened. Besides, wait for the court summons, you are trying to slander an innocent American citizen and a British Noble, it is enough for you to experience life in prison."

"And you, sir. Carl and I can wait for the police here, and we will tell them the truth. About 5 minutes ago, a man dressed as a waiter entered our box, saying that he was entrusted by the manager to send us a Good bottle of wine. But we actually got nothing, he forced us to hand over guns and money, and then created this chaos to escape. I have a fairly serious medical history, and I can't bear these scares. Carl is going to take me back, And you stopped him, and Mr. Randolph tried to threaten Carl with his fling. Clear enough, isn't it, if he can throw dirty water at us, there's no reason we can't, you've planned it all, This is a premeditated and despicable trap!" Lester raised his head and said sternly.

The person in charge of the theater is about to be blown away by his upside-down black-and-white gas, Satan, any of them may be the one who is frightened at the moment, but they will definitely not be able to move at all with this murderous Mr. Randolph The young man couldn't get along, he opened his mouth, and finally he could only rub his hair in despair: "...I'm sorry, sir, you can leave...God, don't do it again...This is really..."

"Don't be a good boy, sir. If we leave, at least you can make up some reasons at will. After all, you also know that money can turn ghosts around, and enough benefits will make us forget about it forever." Lester let go of Randolph, who was constantly struggling. The guy got up trembling, glared at them viciously, and ran away in a hurry, clutching his waist.

"I think he wants us to keep in mind that I just hit him—and that you turned him down for a date, and he's going to fuck us?" Lester climbed into the car, and Carl slapped him. Blankets, they hug each other, warmth and exhaustion are always accompanied, the young people are not even willing to recall the scene ten minutes ago - even though they are stubbornly lingering in their minds.

Carl put his hands around his waist. "Randolph can't make a big wave. But if he dares to come, this thing will never end, and I will do what I say."