[Comprehensive British and American] Will the golden boy fall in love with the women's clothing

Regarding this matter, Randall did not mention it to Dick. For him, Dick was just his short-term partner in these two weeks. It never occurred to Al to involve Dick.

The police officers who have stayed in the police station for a long time know that there must be a lot of collusion behind this series of incidents. Brudhaven is full of casinos, and the plutocrats and gangsters behind them are no less powerful than Gotham. They It is enough troublesome to deal with these criminals at ordinary times. The grass on the grave of Wilder Mestas, the last policeman who investigated this matter, is almost two feet high. They are not that big of a heart.

And in Randall's cognition, Dick is currently just a handsome rookie policeman. It's hard to say whether he can fight, but at least he shows that he is a purebred human. He started training when he was twelve or thirteen years old. It's definitely safer than Dick to investigate these things with ex-X-Men reservists.

"It's a mess over there," Dick began.

Randall sank into the chair thinking about something, and was taken aback by Dick's sudden voice, "It's a black market after all..." He looked at Dick's clothes today, and suggested, "Do you want to put on some disguise?"

Criminals like to stay in places like the black market where fish and dragons are mixed up. Dick is also a policeman after all. If his face is remembered, wouldn't it be troublesome to investigate in plainclothes?

"What disguise? I'm going to borrow a suit of clothes?" Dick looked down at what he was wearing today, a rock band's limited-edition long-sleeved black T-shirt, jacket, gray cotton sweatpants, and running shoes—he picked up casually in the morning. I wore a few clothes, but I was wearing them blindly because I had a good skin.

Randall stared at him for a few seconds. He was used to the slovenly appearance of the people in the police station. After all, everyone's work intensity is very high, and it is common to stay up all night. That's fine, "...It's okay, just sit down, I'll help you put on some makeup."

As a professional beauty blogger, Randall will also put a few cosmetics in his bag when he goes out, which is convenient for emergency.

Dick was pressed in place by Randall in a daze, and when he raised his eyes, the young man's cool hand had already touched him, pushing back the broken hair on his forehead, and holding it with a clip--the clip was Rand The one Er usually uses for Lula when she goes out, with shiny floral diamonds on it, must not be discovered by Dick.

"Wow!" Randall sighed again, "Your skin is really good."

The young man bent down and squatted in front of Dick. The distance was so close that Dick felt that he could almost count how many golden upturned eyelashes there were. He leaned back a little, but Randall's hand was on his face sideways, and quickly straightened his head again, "Don't run away, let me see what I can do for you."

Randall lowered his eyes and muttered, looking slowly across Dick's face, his pale blue eyes appearing to have deepened even further, as the thin lashes cast a dark shadow over his eyeballs. , "I haven't tried turning a handsome guy into an ugly one yet."

The color of the liquid foundation is a bit different from Dick's skin. When I got closer, I realized that Dick's skin color was darker than I expected. After all, he is a policeman who often has to go out to work. There is still some difference between the delicate boy who can't go out and must wear sunscreen when going out to shoot outdoor scenes.He was picky and picky in his makeup bag, and finally took the eyeliner and decided to start with the eyebrows.

Dick had a pair of sword-browed and star-eyed looks. Randall hooked up his eyeliner and found out that he made the eyes of others a little bigger. He looked like a seventeen or eighteen-year-old high school boy who would be cheerleading The kind of girls who are crazy about handing over love letters, the male hormones are simply rushing.

This won't work, they're here to scout for information, not to give Dick a blind date on the black market.

Randall shook his hand, turned the eyeliner to the side, and fainted at the end of Dick's eyes, "..."

He and Dick looked at each other, and then resolutely made up his mind, and drew him a rock visual smoky makeup, thanking Lula for watching the rock band's mv every day, which left him with a lot of reference.

Dick closed his eyes, felt the soft touch of the paint above his eyelids, and realized that something was wrong. He had also learned a simple disguise under Batman's hands: "Wait a minute—I think..."

Before he finished speaking, Randall had stopped. He stepped back a few steps and looked at Dick carefully. He took off the clip inlaid with pink crystal diamonds guiltily, and a few strands of debris fell on his forehead. Before, making the current Dick look even more decadent.

"...I think this is not bad, at least you won't be recognized in the future." Randall said to him.

Dick was dubious. "Really? Can I look in a mirror?"

Randall picked up a pair of sunglasses from his desk and handed them to Dick, "There's no wasting time, let's go now."

Five minutes later, Dick sat in the driver's seat, took off his sunglasses and breathed a sigh of relief, and glanced over the window mirror.

Dick:! ! !

and many more!

With trembling hands, he put on the sunglasses he had just put on.

This has to eat a few Tim Drake?Those with dark circles under the eyes can become refined.

Dick asked Randall one last time weakly before hitting the gas pedal: "Are you sure we're going out like this?"

"Hmm..." Randall looked up from the co-pilot holding the makeup mirror, "It's not very good, this makeup is so eye-catching, everyone's attention will only be on your dark circles, cough, smoky makeup, absolutely I don't remember what you look like."

It's nonsense, but it does make sense.

Dick turned his head and found that Randall was holding an eyeshadow palette and applying smoky makeup on himself, layer by layer, as if he was stacking buffs, as if he was afraid of being recognized by others, desperately smearing his face .

The gazes of the two panda eyes met in the mirror, and they quickly looked away, afraid that he might not be able to hold back his laughter.

Humans are very strange creatures. If one person does embarrassing things alone, he will really feel embarrassed, but if two people do it together... At least Dick is not so embarrassed now.

"Okay, I think we can start a band and debut." Randall rubbed contouring powder on his cheeks, making his face look thinner.

"What band? The Panda Band?" Dick leaned over the steering wheel and looked sideways at him.

"Not bad," Randall snapped his fingers. He cleared his voice and lowered his voice. "From now on, I'm Randa, and you're...uh, what should I call you later?"

"Sparrow*." Dick sighed, stepped on the gas pedal, and the car drove out of the police garage.

In fact, they all know the black market Jem mentioned yesterday. That street is in a relatively remote location. Every city will have such a place with a particularly large number of homeless people and foreigners. The environment can't be said to be good. Transactions are often conducted in such places.

A place opposite to the bustling, a lair of wandering warblers and addicts, nameless dead bodies slowly rotting in the deep alleys, it is a gray area beyond the control of law enforcement.

Of course, it's just that the general law on the surface doesn't work for them. When the vigilante passes by here at night, Dick will still pick up a few gangsters with malicious intentions-and he found that this street is not the same as that underground bar. The location is very close.

66th Street.Dick parked his car on the opposite side of the road, and there was a road sign at the corner of the intersection, with the Arabic numeral '66' on it, and many strange words and patterns were left on it with thick marker pens of other colors .

"Here?" Randall glanced out the window and saw the narrow streets and small stalls on the side of the road. The people sitting in the shadow of the buildings didn't look like locals, their skin was tanned, and their eyes Gloomy and sharp, it seems that he is not here to do business with you, but to assassinate you tonight.

Before getting out of the car, he let go of the hair tie, rubbed it casually, and messed up the long, smooth hair.

The two of them seemed to have just walked out of the third-rate band posters. The roadside vendors were no strangers to people like them. The visual kei's dark circles are so ugly.

As Randall walked, he observed the surroundings without leaving a trace, and found that everything was really sold here, including weapons, jewelry and emeralds, and he even saw a bat dart—seriously?Selling bat darts in this kind of place?Although the quantity is small, the price is actually very high, but he has never really seen Batman, and he can't tell whether it is real or fake.

The doctors they were looking for were very famous here, and black doctors were not all unlicensed bastards. On the contrary, some of them had superb skills and were able to perform many difficult operations.Dr. Truman is one of the doctors who is said to be able to cure many difficult and miscellaneous diseases.I heard that he charges a lot, but he is willing to provide free treatment to the poor. He has accumulated a certain reputation on 66th Street, and everyone respects him.

Dr. Truman lived in a small bungalow, which looked cleaner than the surrounding neighborhoods. There were not many people passing by, and there were a few peddlers poking around the corner.

Randall stood at the door and looked inside, feeling a weird atmosphere. He tugged on Dick's sleeve and whispered, "I think... something is wrong here."

"Yeah." Dick could also see that the tiled floor in front seemed to have just been mopped, and a thin layer of water hadn't dried yet. The windows on the second and third floors were tightly closed, even the curtains were drawn. Looking inside from the gate reveals that the hall is lit even in broad daylight.

Just when the two of them were hesitating whether to go in, a crisp bell sounded slowly approaching them from the stairs.

"Meow!" I saw a white cat jumping down from the stairs, with a small silver bell tied around its neck, which made sounds as it moved.

"...Mr. Sparrow, I think we may be late." Randall frowned, watching the cat that was not afraid of strangers calmly slipped away from their feet.The white cat's entire cat's face and four feet were stained with red liquid, which wet its hair, and plum blossom marks extended all the way down the stairs.

Based on Randall's many years of experience, he can judge that it is definitely not the juice of other food and fruit, but the real blood.