The red side is always blocking my dog ​​leash

Jack's visit was just to reconfirm what happened at the scene, to make sure he didn't miss anything.

He has no doubts about Mr. A for the time being.

After all, although Mr. A does not look like a good boy in the normal sense, his appearance is still very confusing. Compared with Byron's 1.8-meter strong man, the gap is not too big. I don't think he can single out and kill Byron.

And so is it.

The reason why Mr. A was able to deal with Byron unscathed at that time was precisely because of the information gap between the two and Byron's contempt.

In a head-on confrontation, with both of them having guns, with his slightly better physical fitness than ordinary people, the winning rate is only about a quarter, and the premise is that Byron's marksmanship is not good.

After dealing with Jack's inquiry, Bourbon, as the victim's family member, proposed to take Mr. A back to the hospital in Virginia, which was close to home, and he also hoped that Arnold, who had just experienced the terrible incident, would stay away from the place where he was injured.

It was a reasonable request, and Jack agreed.

Bourbon also left the ward after he left, and he was going to discharge Arnold from the hospital.

Mr. A looked at the door, still a little confused, he couldn't help but think of Bourbon's eyes - if this was a hoax, he had to admit that Bourbon was superior.

He was affected.

Knock, knock.

The sound of knuckles knocking on the door panel called Mr. A back. He looked at Will at the door and subconsciously smiled: "What's the matter?"

Will raised his right hand, holding a mobile phone: "Add a friend?"

Mr. A does not have Twitter, and the two exchanged phone numbers, and they will probably contact each other by text message in the future.

He has something in this guy's hands. Mr. A thought silently, but there is a high probability that he will not be used to threaten himself.

Because Will couldn't explain the source of the pistol, if the other party wanted to continue to be his special agent, he would never hand over the evidence easily.

Probably because they want to develop a friendship, and that handle is considered a favor.

So I readily handed over my phone number.

Only then did they realize that both of them only knew each other's first name.

"Arnold? Taylor. You can call me A." Mr. A said.

"Will Graham."

Mr. A nodded, and this conversation probably came to an end here.

"You can contact me if you need anything, and I am always waiting."

"Thank you..." Will said with a smile, "I'm also in Virginia, Wolf Trap. I don't think we live far away."

He actually has some kind of social disorder - Asperger's or autism or something, he's resistant to socializing with people, but...

Just like a psychologist prefers a special mental illness, he, who has a strong empathy ability, cannot resist a person who is as thorough and calm as water.

When empathizing with the other party, his thinking seems to become stable, and Will's self has gained a moment of respite, breaking free from the quagmire of other people's consciousness, and the part belonging to the other party will not erode him, it just exists firmly Like a mirror, he has never felt so clearly where he is.

This is due to the fact that the other party seems to be blank, but has an extremely firm personality.

Will couldn't imagine what kind of experience could make such a person.

This made him inevitably curious.

Mr. A's eyes paused slightly at his clear blue eyes, very good, the second one today who can't see any flaws, but he must have other plans - how could a good person take the initiative to approach him?

Unless absolutely necessary (like a whiskey trio).

In short, wait and see.

"I'm in Franklin, it's really close." He smiled, "You can come to me when you have time, if you want."

Will: "Of course."

The two didn't question the behavior of inviting each other to their home when they first met. Mr. A was pretending to be warm and careless, and Will just didn't realize it.

He has almost no experience with normal relationships.

His ward seemed to be restless. Mr. Special Agent had just left before Bourbon came back, followed by Hannibal.

Mr. A squinted his eyes.

This guy……

When I saw him in the photo, I ran to the hospital. I asked about the whereabouts of Scotland. Did I want to do something to his brother?

After learning that his brother will not appear, he turned his target to Bourbon?

But apparently Hannibal didn't attack Bourbon.Otherwise he would never be standing here intact.

After all, unlike Scotland, who is gentle by nature, the vigilance of the man in front of him does not distinguish between time and object. His level of caution is so high that even passing ants are amazed, and he once occupied the first place in the police academy with his thin body. A talented player in the seat.

If you despise him because of his handsome appearance, you will suffer a lot.

It’s fine if Hannibal didn’t have this plan, if he had… Mr. A could only mourn for him in advance.

Hannibal, who knew nothing, smiled slightly at Bourbon's blind spot.

He did come to Baltimore Central Hospital with the intention of killing Seamus—as a copycat, his old part-time job—but when he learned that the other party would not come, he did not set his goal here In the case of Mr. Hepburn, the target of the oriental killer is the oriental.Obviously, Hepburn does not meet this requirement.

The reason why he approached him was only with an inquiring mind.

What is the relationship between this man, Boston Hepburn and Arnold?

Will Arnold be able to give his life for this man as he said?

But based on the previous observation in the ward, Arnold's attitude towards Poston was obviously suspicious and wary, and the relationship between them was not good, at least not that good.

What's interesting is that Boston's attitude towards Arnold is much more real.

The truth and the false are mixed together, and the previous conclusions are not credible.Hannibal still had a smile on his face: "The previous invitation is still valid, Arnold. The long recuperation bed must be extremely boring. When you can move easily, you are welcome to come and taste my craft."

"Of course, Mr. Hepburn is too. If it is convenient, please convey the invitation to Mr. Taylor for me."

Bourbon seemed to have a good relationship with him. Hearing this, he smiled and nodded: "It's an honor, I will."

Hannibal said goodbye.

Bourbon looked at Mr. A: "You and Scotland's mission this time is related to him?"

Mr. A hesitated for a moment. Scotland didn't say that he needed to keep it secret. This task was just as incidental as it was worthless, so let's say: "The organization wants to recruit him. If it doesn't work, it will be resolved."

Bourbon raised his eyebrows: "You have already spent three days." The implication is that their progress is too slow, and the goal is still out of the state.

"Because the FBI and senior Ley's tasks are involved, it has become tricky."

Mr. A truthfully explained.

"Oh..." Upon hearing Ley's name, Bourbon lost interest immediately.

Since the FBI had a hand in it and the FBI's undercover agents were also there, it would be better for him not to intervene, lest Akai Hideo be tied up.

Bourbon was busy with his own affairs at this time last time, and didn't pay attention to Mr. A, and Scotland didn't say much.

He tried his best to recall it, and only remembered that Mr. A was probably also injured physically, but the reason was different from now.

He hadn't seen Hannibal's name in the organization either, maybe he died, or was successfully saved by Akai Shuichi.

The injury this time was caused by Mr. A himself. The wound is not serious, but it needs to be recuperated for a period of time. After this period of time, the matter has been resolved long ago.

He temporarily suspended his work to come here, even if it is not very important, but leaving for a period of time is already the limit.

Thinking about it this way, Bourbon planned to send Mr. A back and then leave.

"How long will you lie down?"

Mr. A immediately rolled over and got out of bed. The effect of the anesthetic was basically gone now, and he felt pain in his shoulder. He couldn't help but wrinkled his face, and tried to look calm again.

Picking up the phone from the table, he said, "Senior Bourbon, let's go."

Bourbon retracted his gaze, hummed in a low voice, "Let's go."