Think of England

Curtis waited eleven days before returning to London.

The inquest into the death was uneventful.Curtis, Miss Carruth and Miss Morton testified unanimously that James Armstrong was a chronic alcoholic and distraught by the disappearance of his best friend.In his confession, Curtis described how James, who was so drunk and delirious, shot indiscriminately in the empty tower and shot his stepmother; although he shot to stop James, he failed to save the tragedy. And then how Sir Hubert pointed the gun at himself in grief.No one disputed his testimony.He said nothing about Marci, who was not present at the inquest.

Also present were the Graylings. They looked sad and did not speak a word during the whole process, but they were not further summoned in the end.The Lambtons did not show up.It is said that Mr. Lambton's head injury has not improved, and Mrs. Lambton is recuperating in the nursing home.

Daniel da Silva is mentioned only briefly in the story, and is positioned as a passerby who left long before the whole tragedy happened.James' mental breakdown was attributed to his close friend Mr. Holt's leaving without saying goodbye, but the coroner was not satisfied with Mr. Holt's whereabouts so far, and he was quite critical.

The only sticky question during the inquest was why Curtis had taken a loaded pistol with him that morning for his morning walk, but Wiese had helped him come up with an explanation.Curtis raised his right hand, explaining that he just wanted to adapt to his crippled limbs; and if anyone present had doubts, thinking that it was unreasonable for a man who could only use one hand to use a wild animal to practice target, that would be condemned. The respect of the wounded war hero was overwhelming, after all, even the coroner spared no effort to express his respect for the hero.The whole process was extremely embarrassing.

More difficult to endure later.Cannon, the special agent Weiser stayed behind to take care of everything for Curtis, first claimed that Curtis would have to wait nine days until the turmoil caused by the murder of the rich man's family subsided before returning to London, and then kept asking him about Holt. , the Armstrongs, and the Lambtons forced him to recall every detail.Cannon angrily informed Curtis that the Intelligence Service had been targeting Huot for a long time, but Huot died at this juncture, making them lose the precious opportunity to track down the scope of the threatening letter and the distribution channels of state secrets.He even hinted that it would be more beneficial to the motherland if Daniel died instead of Holt; this finally made Curtis refuse to cooperate, and strongly expressed his willingness to go home.

Eleven days passed.If Daniel kept his promise, Curtis would now be counting the days and looking forward to meeting his lover.

During the many aimless walks and the many angry lonely nights, he couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened between them.He thought about the possibility of a discredited statement, the disappointment of his uncle and uncle, and plans for the future of his life.He thought of Daniel, who dared to argue with Sir Maurice Weiser, but walked away from him like that.

Now he was finally back in London, but in some unnamed building on the outskirts of a government institution.In the suffocatingly small room, his uncle sat at the other end of the table.

"Things seem to be going very well," said Sir Morris. "I haven't heard any backlash yet. There have been some discussions here, but not as intense as expected. Have you heard about Armstrong's will?"

"heard."

"It's like pie falling from the sky—"

"I won't accept it."

Sir Morris gave him a thoughtful look. "That's not a small sum, my boy. If you declined the inheritance, I'm afraid it would attract suspicion, and I don't want you to be noticed."

"I won't take a penny from him."

In his will, Armstrong left most of his property to his wife and children, and the rest was divided equally between the soldiers killed and wounded at Jacobsdale and their families.Thinking that Armstrong might think that a little money could pay for his sins, Curtis punched the wall so hard that his knuckles were cracked.

Of course, that was no small fortune.As Sir Hubert's wife and children had died before him, after deducting debts, the remaining inheritance was almost the majority of his wealth.It was true that the money came from ill-gotten accounts, but if the wounded and widows and orphans were ignorant of it, they could still accept it as compensation.Curtis couldn't do it.

"Don't be so stubborn, boy," said Sir Morris. "You don't want other people to think you don't deserve the money because of your decision?"

"I'll leave my share for others to share. No one will think it wrong, ser. I'm rich, I'm known."

Sir Morris sighed heavily.Curtis was a rich man, mainly because his uncle helped him manage his inheritance when he was orphaned at the tender age of two months. "I have a say in your estate, Archie. You'll have to thank me when you decide to settle down with a good young lady."

"I'm grateful now, ser. With all due respect, is that why you've come to me?"

"No." Sir Morris leaned back, pressing his fingertips together. "I have a problem and I was wondering if you could help."

"With all due respect, ser. What's the matter?"

"Let's take it step by step." Sir Morris pulled out a smile, "I guess you have figured out how the Armstrongs knew that you and Da Silva were hiding in that ridiculous tower."

"Da Silva said there must have been a leak in the Intelligence Service, ser. Someone passed on exactly what I told you to the people in Bigholm."

"That's right." Sir Maurice looked as if he had just chewed a big mouthful of unripe gooseberries. "Someone betrayed Da Silva to the enemy. I thought that person would expose himself sooner or later, but we didn't find out." he comes."

"You don't know who the informer is?" Curtis asked in disbelief.

"I do not know."

"You understand that we almost died." Curtis tried his best to maintain patience in the face of his uncle's calm tone, "If I can't use my left hand to use a gun, or Da Silva's reaction is not fast enough——"

"I know what happened to you. But I don't know who the whistleblower was."

"Then you have to find the informer before assigning him the next task, don't you?" Curtis found himself almost out of the chair, and his uncle was looking at him thoughtfully.He sat back and forced a smile. "I care a lot about it, ser. I killed two people to save his life, and I don't want it all to be in vain."

"Strange to say, I don't want you to waste your time." Sir Maurice tapped his fingertips. "I have two concerns about Da Silva. He is too unforgiving, and he is a coward."

"He's not a coward!" Curtis almost yelled, but this time he didn't care anymore. "My God, ser, how can you sit behind a desk and say something like that? He stood up to three men who pointed guns at him, unarmed—"

"Yes, unarmed," Sir Morris emphasized. "He didn't want to learn how to shoot a gun, he didn't even want to carry a knife. I guess he never threw a punch even in a fit of rage. I agree he's gutsy, but he's a coward when it comes to force. I think he's Humanoids are not far from each other."

Curtis didn't know if "someone like him" meant Daniel's ethnicity, religion, or sexuality, and he didn't care.He and Sir Maurice were very close, but at this moment his uncle could really go to hell. "Courage comes in all sorts of ways, sir. If there's anyone better in your office, I'd like to see him."

Sir Morris waved his hand, "My point is, he can't protect himself, and I can't send someone to protect him, not only because there are people in the Intelligence Service that I can't trust. I have tried to form a team for him three times, and there is no People can bear that man." He squinted at Curtis, "but you obviously can bear him."

"I have thick skin, ser."

"And kind-hearted." Sir Morris gave a rare hearty smile. "You remind me of your mother sometimes. She also softened when she saw a lame dog."

"I won't." Curtis retorted.

Sir Morris leaned forward. "We both know you need to find something to do, Archie. And I need someone I can trust, and Da Silva needs someone who can stand by him in times of crisis. The task given to him may put him in danger. Perhaps I shouldn't ask you, and if you can't stand that man anymore, you can refuse me; but I want to give you a job."

***

Curtis left that office a few hours later, a note with Daniel's address in his hand.

It would be foolish to call without saying hello, he wondered as he boarded the bus to Holborn.He should write a letter first, set a suitable time, and give the other party a chance to refuse.

God knows how clearly Daniel made his position as early as in Bigholm, and he would not welcome himself.While thinking, Curtis got off at the bus stop of the British Museum, entered the dilapidated but elegant Bloomsbury area, and explored among the newly built houses.Daniel is so proud and extremely defensive, Curtis shouldn't insist on appearing in front of him.

What if there were already other people around Daniel?This assumption displeased Curtis, but he had to face it.How could Daniel have no lovers in London, maybe more than one?

He thought about it as he walked through narrow streets and gray-brick rooms, dodging cart vendors and flower growers.He undoubtedly knew his own mind clearly.For eleven sleepless nights, he held on to every minute of their passage through the tower, lest he forget those precious memories.But what are Daniel's real feelings and needs?The reason why he rejected Curtis was for Curtis' sake, or did he simply not need his clumsy and overly attentive company?Did he, like Curtis, feel the connection between them beyond physical and spiritual...

Curtis didn't have half the answer.While thinking that he must be an idiot, he impulsively rang the doorbell of the small rental house.Any guy with a bit of common sense will think carefully before acting. No one with a normal mind would knock on other people's door so rashly.

After the landlady led him up to the first floor, she pointed him to Daniel's room.He knocked on the door.There was a soft sound that sounded like a curse, and then the door was pulled open with obvious impatience, and Daniel stood there.

He was wearing a shirt and vest with the cuffs rolled up, and his unpolished hair was a mess that looked like it had been pulled.He has ink stains on his fingers and wears a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.Curtis was immediately caught by the glasses.

Daniel blinked, and he took his glasses off the bridge of his nose. "Curtis." He stepped back to let Curtis enter the room, and shut the landlady out. "What do you want to do again?"

"I want to see you."

"I told you I don't want to see you." Daniel put the reading glasses back on the table, and the small table was full of papers.The top sheet was covered in Daniel's scribbles: lines of short sentences interspersed with strikethroughs and parentheses.

"Are you writing poetry?" Curtis asked fascinated.

Daniel deliberately turned the paper over to the back, but the other side was also full of words.He clicked his tongue angrily, took a newspaper and slapped it on the pile of papers. "I don't welcome others to watch."

"I know." Curtis looked around.The furnishings in the room are simple, with only some old furniture.The fire in the narrow fireplace was weak, and there was little charcoal left in the coal bucket.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Daniel asked sarcastically.He leaned against the wall, folded his hands on his chest, "Since I said you are not welcome here..."

"I'm here this time because I have a duty."

"Really? Have I invaded whose territory?"

"Your job," Curtis reiterated, adding, "is not the part of being a poet."

"Yes, I heard it, thank you for reminding me. What is it?"

Daniel is obviously not in the mood for small talk, so there's no need for him to ramble. "I think I should tell you first that we are going to work together."

These words broke Daniel's composure.He stared at Curtis, "What are we going to do?"

"Work together. Entrusted by my uncle. Just in case you need to fight with others someday."

Judging from Daniel's expression, he was about to make a move in a few minutes. "I don't need a babysitter," he gritted his teeth, "and I don't want to be in a team. I've always been alone."

"Indeed. My uncle says you've driven three fellows away with your fangs and mouth."

"That's right. Of course, if a guy gives me his opinion of damned sodomites and Jews all day long, and that's considered civilized, then I'll share with him my observations of his simple mind and strong limbs, It turned into my fangs and sharp mouth."

"But I like your mouth."

Daniel raised his eyebrows, but not on purpose this time.He quickly recovered his calm expression, "How dare you say such things."

"Nothing to dare." Curtis stepped forward, "I know you don't need a nanny. But my uncle just gave me an excuse to be close to you, as long as you want me to stay by your side."

Daniel's dark eyes didn't blink. "Only your uncle knows what he's up to. Even so, there will be gossip."

"He did tell me that if my friendship with you were discovered, it might raise suspicions. I told him I didn't care. I really don't." Daniel looked at him suspiciously. "Really. The reasons he gave me allowed me to tell him and Uncle Henry. If I don't worry about them, the rest of them can go to one side."

"That's what you're saying now."

"You never hide yourself," Curtis said. "As long as you want, you can convert to other religions, you can dress conservatively, and you can behave appropriately—like a civil servant. But you never pretend to be yourself, why? Insist on me deceiving myself?"

"You have been pretending for 30 years." Daniel immediately retorted.

"So I've had enough. I'm coming to you anyway, and Sir Morris just gave me a shortcut. Daniel, I want to be with you. If I don't get what I want—" He stared into the black Eyes, hoping to make the other person understand, "I will not continue to pretend. I have been in this-dark state all my life, as if I have been in your damn fish pond, surrounded by black water. I Won't be going back."

Daniel opened his eyes wide, then turned his face away, and when he spoke again, his voice was weak and hurtful, "Don't say it, poetry is really not your strong point. I think you should leave those metaphors to me."

These words hit Curtis like a heavy hammer.He stared at the other person, suddenly feeling that he had had enough of babbling and trying to impress the other person with words that he was not good at.

"You're right," he said, "I'm not a poet. Let's settle the matter in military fashion."

"What—" Daniel was about to speak, but Curtis let out an exclamation.Curtis locked Daniel's left arm around his waist, and then tightly clamped the other wrist.He leaned over Daniel, pressing him against the wall with his fifteen stone muscles.

Daniel glared at him, "What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Shut that mouth of yours," Curtis replied, and then kissed him irresistibly.

Daniel snorted angrily on his lips, then struggled almost as hard as he could.But doing so is useless, because Curtis is far stronger than him and has more experience in suppressing others. Although Curtis has never tried to suppress someone while kissing, he still blocked Daniel's attempt to break free without any effort. And put his lips to the mouth that seemed to be cursing under his breath.Daniel's struggle caused their waists and hips to collide, and Curtis deliberately pressed forward so that there was no gap between their bodies.

It wasn't until Daniel turned his head hard to break the kiss that he was finally able to say, "...you bloody Viking!"

"You Black Mamba."

"Black what?"

"A poisonous snake. Dark in body, graceful and beautiful, but very ill-tempered."

"Screw you."

Daniel bumped into him.Their lips overlapped hungrily again.Curtis didn't restrain his strength, and Daniel responded roughly, biting his lips.He can feel Daniel's erection against his thigh, shifting from breaking free to seeking relief on him.Even though Curtis had no experience in all this, he also knew that it was time to grab Daniel and throw him on the bed, doing something that would make Daniel moan loudly and disarm.He wanted too much to figure out exactly what to do.

Pushing his hips forward, he pushed Daniel against the wall, enjoying the other's gasp with his mouth.

"Pause," Daniel finally turned his head to take a breath. "Pause. Well, what does this prove? Proves that you are stronger than me?"

"Prove that you want me, and it's not over between us." Curtis loosened the grip on Daniel's arm, then backed away, looking down at the pair of red and swollen lips and the pair of dark and unpredictable eyes.For a moment, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the room.

"This kind of behavior," Daniel said finally, "is not very gentlemanly."

"If you talk to me like a gentleman, I'll do the same."

They stared at each other, their chests heaving.A strand of black hair fell in front of Daniel's eyes, and Curtis brushed it away. When his fingertips ran across the skin, he felt Daniel getting closer to him.

He slowed down and said, "I'm serious, and I'm glad we were able to go through these things together."

"Please," Daniel retorted. "Don't act like I'm doing you any favors."

"It's true, you don't know how much you've helped me. Listen, Daniel, I want you. I've never wanted anyone more than I ever wanted, and I don't think I'll ever be able to. I want you to keep arguing with me , make me laugh, make fun of me or have a good laugh with me. I want to keep hearing your brash talk or cutting-edge modern nonsense. But if you really don't want to get on with me, I'll accept it. I It must be accepted. All I ask is one thing; if you keep me out, it is for your own sake, not mine. For I don't need a nurse either."

For a while no one spoke.

Then Daniel covered his eyes with the heels of trembling palms. "I can't have you working with me. It's definitely not going to work. I don't want to be pampered by you, and you're just going to trample everything out of recognition with your giant feet."

It took Curtis a second to think about the meaning of the call, and a touch of joy rose in his heart. "All right."

"But if you insist on making a mess of your life, I can't stop you. It's not my fault."

"It's really not." Curtis couldn't stop smiling, "Do you always make things so complicated?"

"Correct."

"So you're going to make things easier for me?"

"Probably not."

Curtis gently raised Daniel's chin with one finger, making him look at him. "Can I kiss you?"

"You've already kissed."

"True. But is it possible?"

"God." Daniel grabbed Curtis's hair and pulled him down, their lips collided eagerly.Curtis moaned in a low voice, and put the man who was lighter than him into his arms, feeling that Daniel moved forward with his movements.He hugged him even tighter, and he heard Daniel gasp, making his mind go blank. He just wanted to kiss each other, to put his tongue into the other's mouth, to feel the other's lips and teeth, to use his hands to thoroughly explore that slender body Thin body.He needed Daniel in his arms, and the need had been burning more and more for the past few days, but only now was he letting himself be drowned in desire.After Daniel took a breath and tried to say something, Curtis reluctantly released him.

He found himself leaning against a locker with Daniel sitting on it, legs wrapped around Curtis' hips, hands wrapped around his chest.He's not quite sure how they got into this position.

Daniel looked up into Curtis' eyes. "Beforehand, I did try my best to refuse you. I didn't ask you to promise me, and I didn't promise you anything."

"You are so awkward, I don't expect you to speak."

"Shut up. I really hope you don't come to me." He approached again, put his hands on Curtis's chest, and murmured: "Although I fantasize in my heart that you will come."

Curtis inserted his fingers into the other's black hair. "It's not the first time I've chased after you."

Daniel's head sank against his chest. "Oh my God, Archie. My Viking. You have no idea how much you've taken from me."

"Your diction is too wonderful," Curtis said in a hoarse voice, "how could anyone not like your mouth?"

Daniel couldn't help laughing. "You really stand your ground, don't you?"

"Don't you too." He kissed the disheveled black hair, "but I don't want you to change that."

Daniel hugged him tightly. "Even if I agree, it doesn't mean I can put you in danger. Let's play it safe, okay? I don't want to turn your life upside down."

"Even when you shook my hand and made those nasty comments about soldiers, you turned my life upside down."

"Provocative comments. That's just the level of provocation."

"It's obscene to say it out of your mouth."

Daniel smiled shamelessly. "Now that we're talking about it..." He reached out and brushed Curtis's hair, "I didn't even know that a big man reading poetry would be the sexiest picture in the world. I can just look at you like that Hours. I could even kneel in front of you like that."

Curtis swallowed.There was more malice in Daniel's smile. "So...do you miss me?" His hands slid down to Curtis' waist.Curtis quickly stretched out his hand to restrain the opponent.

"Wait. Will you work with me? Please?" Will you let me protect you?Although he didn't say it out loud, he begged loudly from the bottom of his heart.

Daniel grimaced, "You want to work for your uncle? Are you sure?"

"I want to work with you." He leaned over and kissed the tip of Daniel's ear, "Promise me."

"Begins on a probationary period. Subsequent employment is not guaranteed."

"Of course." This time Curtis tried his best to hold back the smile that almost split the corner of his mouth.

"Stop setting off the siren again, my heart can't take it again."

"Feel sorry."

"And if we fall into the same situation as last time again, it's your turn to lick me this time."

"No problem. But do we need to wait until then?"

"Well, I think you really need to practice first." Daniel's lips curved into a secret smile again, and this time Curtis finally knew that he was also in the secret of making the other party laugh. "Learn, honey." He gently pushed Curtis back, then gracefully knelt down in the gap.

"Learn."

-The End-

[1] About 95 kilograms.

Extra

viking song

Daniel looked at the words he had written.

This line of words took him an entire hour, and he changed every word at least twice except for the articles.The paper is covered with layers and layers of smudges, the fruit of his afternoon's labor.Twelve words.

He threw the nib back onto the paper and carefully crossed out the line.

He went to the window.The inside of the window is bright, but the outside is covered with soot and dirt.He looked at the surrounding scenery—the smoky black low brick walls divided the apartments into blocks, and everything was beautified by the glimmer of winter light.Such a backyard view is typical in the dark, seedy, artsy Bloomsbury area.Archie lives in a newly built, managed house on Cranbourne Street in East London, and Daniel is sure his room doesn't look out into someone's backyard, which reminds him once again why he did the right thing in the first place Decide.

And reminded him of damn Archie Curtis again.

He inserted the fingers of both hands into his hair and pulled hard.It was a habit of his childhood, and although he had corrected it long ago, if he didn't do it now, he would probably scream, which would no doubt irritate Mrs. Buckswick.His landlord had come all the way from Prussia to avoid the riots. He couldn't scare her anymore and hurt her a second time.

He should stop thinking about Archie.They would never meet again; it was Daniel's decision, and he had to live with the consequences.If that idiot Archie, driven by an absurd sense of responsibility, did come looking for him, Daniel would just throw him out without saying a word.This is the only correct way to do it.In other words, if Archie did come, this would be the only correct way to do it, but Archie will not come.

Daniel could forget about him, and that was his plan.He has left countless men behind.The only problem, the only thorn in the throat, the only insurmountable problem, was that he couldn't explain in words what was going on between them.

The clubs he frequented were always filled with bohemian poets and artists, and people who lived their lives like stage plays, and he should go back there and make the whole story into a drama. monologue, making everyone laugh.The hero Daniel da Silva fell in love with turned out to be the little protagonist in a Boy's Own Magazine story!Listen, he fell in love within a week, and the whole play was set on a northern manor!It sure sounds funny, and he's going to make it all funny, because that's how he rewrites his memory and makes Archie some serious soldier, while he's a sad, love-stricken guy gay; the whole thing became a biting joke.

This is not a fact, but it can be used to replace real memories. After he himself believes it to be true, it doesn't matter whether it is a fact or not.

But he couldn't talk about it.Thanks to the sensational ending of the Armstrong family and the outcome of the new trial, his week at the estate still dominates the pages of major newspapers.Those reports featured pictures of Archie showing his light-blond hair, his resolute jaw, his broad chest, his mutilated hand firmly in his pocket.There's no need for this small detail to detract from the perfect British officer image, is there?Archie Curtis, war hero, explorer's nephew, and masculine representative of England.Daniel knew that Archie must hate these newspapers for exaggerating his privacy and using it as a way to flatter him.

Thanks to Sir Maurice Weese, Daniel was not summoned, but his name was mentioned in the trial, so many people know that he was also in Bigholm at the time.In the past few days, his relatives and friends have sought him out, hoping to get some original news from him - what happened to the Armstrong family was too shocking and tragic - but in the end they could only try their best to hide their disappointment , because Daniel said he had gone home before then.

So he can't speak out.Even if he just said that he fell in love with a young man with a bright future—here again, why can't you learn your lesson? — even if he just said he had feelings for a man who didn't look gay in the slightest, it might be associated with Archie.He can't take that risk.

But if he didn't get the thorns out of his chest, they were going to take root in him.

Maybe he could talk to his father.Bruno da Silva doesn't blame him, doesn't disagree with him, doesn't even offer advice.He never gave his son advice.He would probably listen in silence, then produce a new type of lock and show Daniel how to pick it.This is not without help.

He couldn't talk about it with his mother.He could argue with her about trivial matters, and that would help, but only if he got the energy to go to her.He could write a poem too, which was what he was after all in the spare time he was not occupied by Sir Maurice Weese and the Intelligence Service.This is his calling: writing.But now he couldn't even do that, because the poem he really wanted to write was not the one on the table.

It's all Archie's fault, he's always been bad.

Daniel's recollections of that eerie limestone cave in Bigholm are just a few inexplicable fragments, plus the exhaustion, fear and panic caused by the tens of millions of pounds left at that time.These scattered pictures lingered in his mind, as if he had to wait for him to sort out the clues and piece together the original appearance correctly.The light source flickers at night, and the weird shadows cast on the weird wall; the rocks covered with water vapor and intertwined roots; the blond-haired barbarian Archie who kills enemies while laughing...

He could feel his thoughts drifting into Anglo-Saxon rhythms.Modifications, alliteration, rhythmic phrases.If you want to write about the British officer and Viking warrior Archie, you should use this form.Although Daniel is already well-known in the modern fragment poetry school, the eulogy of the legendary warrior is more suitable to be written in the style of ancient poetry. The poetry of that era generally reverberated with this sense of despair and loneliness, which was passed down endlessly in the torrent of history.

"You're such a sentimental fool, Da Silva," he cried. "You don't want to write an elegy for damned Archie Curtis. Your songs are falling apart."

He smashed our song so easily, because it never came together.The line that has haunted him for days is an Anglo-Saxon lament for a departed lover[2].But the saddest thing is that it was Daniel himself who snuffed out their love before it was ignited.

All they had was one night, but during those sweet hours, Archie bared his scars and said Daniel's poems were beautiful.He kissed Daniel in his usual style, single-mindedly, as if there was no obstacle in front of him.

Daniel remembers how it felt.Archie caressed him with those big hands, and the scabs he felt on his fingertips when he took Archie's mutilated hand in his palm - hideous and ugly, replacing the three fingers that should have been there - but that was Archie's hand, and the emotion written in Archie's blue eyes is the only thing that matters right now.Archie looked at him with comically focused eyes, and he almost thought that the other party would stick out his tongue helplessly, like a child facing a difficult math problem.

But Archie clearly knows how to use his tongue more effectively.Daniel never gave up his armor and armor like that night, because even if Archie didn't say it, he could think that the other party could not have served any man with his mouth before: he was from the Curtis family, he was an officer, a gentleman , and at the same time a rough-and-tumble boor, the company of which any self-indulgent poet with a modicum of self-respect should disdain.

But despite his inexperience, he took Daniel in his mouth and insisted on bringing Daniel to climax.He just squeezed it clumsily and forcefully, and Daniel Armed's heart shattered like an egg.

It was the best night of Daniel's life, right after his worst.However, the next day he cut everything off with his own hands, because he had no other way to repay Archie.

Also because he still has a little sanity.Archie never looked forward or backward in doing things, and worked his way through to the end. He has grown into a big man for nothing, but he is still a little boy at heart. He doesn't know how to learn from his mistakes, and his moral values ​​are so simple that it makes people laugh.He killed two people in front of Daniel, and one of them was unarmed. This incident should have completely contradicted the creed of a pacifist like him.Besides, he is still deeply bound by traditional ethics. Daniel really has no time or energy to deal with this "awakening soul". Sleeves leave themselves.

He made the right choice.There is no doubt about it.

So far Archie has not appeared in front of his eyes, and that alone is enough to prove that he is right.That man was almost stuck in mud for the rest of his life, maybe he was just glad that he escaped from death.Even if he doesn't realize it now, he'll be thanking himself for his wise decision before long.Daniel saved each other countless troubles and embarrassments.

He closed his eyes and tugged at his hair again.The pain on the scalp successfully made him temporarily ignore the suffering elsewhere.

"Okay," he said.Talking to yourself was not a good habit for a spy, much less for someone who made a living out of stealth, but words were Daniel's armor as well as his crutch.

"Let me write that damn man into a damn poem, maybe I can get rid of the obscene demon and concentrate on my work, how about it?"

He would use the Anglo-Saxon style of poetry: no final rhyme, alliteration, parallelism.He turned on the heater to ward off the winter night, and then sat back at his desk, giving up on putting out those images and letting them flow through his mind.The poem should be divided into three parts: the duel in the cave, the long night in the ruins, and the farewell.Yes, it's an elegy to Archie Curtis for their lost love.There was always a violent shame in him about writing something significant, and he would write it in agony, but he would write the poem anyway and lock it in a drawer or burn it as if it were a gift to him. —a sacrifice to whatever, so that he can keep everything dusted.

The flames are extinguished, and the lives of soldiers hang by a thread—no, the flames are extinguished.spark.Or try another alliteration.Sparks dance, warriors fear nothing...

He started to write quickly, and in a blink of an eye, nineteen lines of verses appeared on the paper. For the first time in several days, he felt a spring of writing and thinking, but at this time the door of the room was knocked by a certain animal.

"Go to hell!" Daniel cursed loudly, got up angrily, and was about to drive the uninvited guest out.

***

An hour later, Archie was lying on Daniel's recliner, and Daniel was lying on Archie.

"This thing is really practical." Archie sighed.

"what?"

"This thing I don't know what to call it." He patted the armrest of the recliner. "There's only one side of the back, so you can stretch your legs. I thought it was only, uh, old ladies or artists who use this kind of stuff."

"I'm an artist," Daniel reminded him.

"True, but..." Archie was a little out of words, "I mean, I thought it was just for bohemian chic. How can a thing with only one side back be comfortable. "

"But for a tall man, how convenient it is to have a fight on it, you now have some experience and understand how suitable this design is