Are Vampires real?"
"Yes, not just Vampires; Werewolves, Changelings, Devils, and Angels are all real, and there are even aliens…"
"Hmph, it must be the U.S. Military covering up the truth again."
"Right?"
Some truths, if revealed, would only cause panic. Skye clearly didn't think so at this stage. If Mike didn't want to argue, he could only obediently agree with Skye.
When coaxing women, you agree with them and say what they want to hear. That's why many women complain that men in love and men after marriage are two different creatures.
As they talked, the two drew closer and closer.
"I don't want to disturb you, but if you two keep being lovey-dovey, the hot pot broth will burn dry," Old Earl shouted from outside the garage.
"Deduct his salary!" Mike gritted his teeth.
"Old Earl's salary for this month is all deducted by you," Skye said with a sweet, innocent smile.
"Then deduct next month's!"
The two couldn't continue to linger in the underground Base.
Back at the supermarket.
Mike affectionately touched Chloe, whose tear stains hadn't dried, and said, "Next time you're hungry, eat first. You don't have to wait for anyone, understand?"
"Mm!" Chloe nodded seriously.
Earlier, Chloe, returning from school, saw Mike, rushed over, hugged his leg, and cried loudly. Her heartbroken appearance made Mike's face contort, and he almost drew his knife immediately.
Someone bullied Chloe?
Only I can bully Chloe!!!
Old Earl explained that Chloe's mother had also "gone on a long trip," and Chloe never saw her again.
Before going to Afghanistan, Mike had told Chloe he was "going on a long trip." Chloe was very scared, fearing that Mike would, like her mother, leave and never return.
"I didn't dote on this girl for nothing," Mike felt a warmth in his heart. "Skye! Go online and find some exercise books to reward Chloe."
Skye laughed, "Okay, no problem!"
Chloe blinked, crying even more sadly.
Hot pot isn't something you can eat every day; it's heating, and even the most delicious food gets tiresome if eaten daily. But whenever there's something to celebrate, everyone loves hot pot.
In the U.S., it's mostly individual servings, which is more hygienic, but it always lacks some of the lively atmosphere.
Skye liked to snatch meat from Mike, even though there were several plates piled high with meat.
Chloe loved eating White radish; it melted in her mouth, filled with the fresh aroma of the broth.
A very discerning little girl, she knew the essence of hot pot.
Old Earl liked fish.
Dinner lasted until past ten, and a group of people lay sprawled on the sofa. Chloe even treated her round little belly as a toy, patting it with great delight.
Old Earl and Chloe moved into a new apartment, right across from Skye, so they didn't have to worry about safety when returning home at night.
The phone rang; the caller ID was an unknown number.
Mike hung up directly.
After the press conference, shareholders, Congress, the White House, the Military… countless people who knew Stark's phone number frantically dialed his phone, but without exception, they heard, "The number you have dialed is currently switched off."
Stark was trying to explain to Pepper why he had to do this.
A near-Death experience can indeed change a person's view of the World, but it didn't change Stark's willfulness—no discussion, no buffer, unilaterally announcing the closure of Stark Industries' weapons division, which almost gave the other shareholders heart attacks.
Stark, with no one supporting him, was very depressed. He picked up a can of cold beer and sat on the sofa.
"No, someone supports it. The more Stark Industries' stock falls, the more he earns, motherf*cker."
He should have been angry, but as he spoke, Stark started to laugh.
How f*cking ironic.
He took a sip of beer.
It didn't taste quite right.
It was clearly a bottle of top-grade Tutankhamun malt beer, nearly a hundred dollars.
Stark remembered the cold beer after he was rescued.
He suddenly felt a little nostalgic.
"Jarvis, call Mike for me."
Stark didn't have Mike's phone number, but he trusted Jarvis would handle it.
Jarvis: "The other party hung up."
Stark: "Redial!"
Jarvis: "The other party is switched off."
Stark: "…"
A few minutes later, Happy was tragically working overtime, driving the bodyguard car behind Stark's sports car.
Fortunately, they were staying at Stark Tower tonight.
The orange and black Bugatti Veyron sped through the New York streets, murdering countless gazes.
"He lives here?" Stark got out of the car, looking around disdainfully. "Happy, you didn't get it wrong, did you?"
Happy vaguely heard gunshots from a street firefight, just like last time—a familiar scene, a familiar sound.
"This is it, sir," Happy said with certainty.
Stark looked up, saw the supermarket sign, and mumbled, "I thought it was a joke; he really opened a supermarket."
Hearing someone push the door and a "Welcome," Skye stood up, muttering, "Did we forget to hang the 'Closed' sign?" Then she saw Tony Stark in a flashy purple suit.
Skye paused, then called out, "Mike! He's looking for you."
Mike poked his head out: "Tony, it's you! You're here to give me money, right? Haha, it's not like it matters if it's a day or two late; I won't charge interest."
Stark almost wanted to vomit Blood. This little money, delayed for this short time, and he had the nerve to mention interest.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Stark decisively took out his checkbook, filled in the amount, and signed his name. He had a strong premonition that if he paid any later, Mike would definitely make him actually vomit Blood from anger.
A few minutes later, Stark was also sprawled on the sofa.
Mike: "Why are you sprawling here instead of staying in your mansion? Where's Ethan?"
Stark: "He's old; he's resting. Not like us young people."
"Pfft!"
Mike gave a thumbs up, "A forty-year-old greasy uncle has the nerve to call himself young. When it comes to shamelessness, you're slightly better."
"Overrated, overrated." Stark ignored Mike's attack: "Ethan insisted on returning to Gomera. Isn't it better to bring his family to the U.S. to live together?"
Mike squinted at Stark.
Stark: "What, is there something on my face?"
Mike: "Yes, stupidity. Ethan's family is dead, you idiot!"
Stark recalled that Ethan and Mike hadn't spent time alone together, and why would Ethan tell Mike these things.
Stark suspected: "No way…"
Mike cursed: "Idiot, his eyes! Did Ethan's eyes look like someone who survived a disaster and was about to reunite with his family?!"
"Uh…"
Stark had to admit Mike's point, then angrily said: "Scumbag, profiteer… It's the first time someone called me an idiot, and twice! I'll remember this, you bastard!"
So, scumbag and profiteer aren't insults in your eyes, then?
Stark took a deep breath: "What should I do about Ethan's situation?"
After a moment of silence, Mike said, "For something like this, don't you have experience?"
How did Stark cope back when his parents died in a car accident?
Just then, Happy carried several cases of Chinese beer to the trunk. Stark slapped his thigh, "Let's go!"
He drove away in that flashy sports car.
Skye poked Mike, "He didn't pay, it seems!"
"F*ck!" Mike swore colorfully.
Skye: "You two get along well. Is it the similar stench of playboys?"
Mike: "Uh… no such thing. Mainly, I don't want anything from him, don't ask anything of him. I scold him when I need to, I confront him when I need to. He's just a cheap thrill."
Meanwhile, Trish was arguing with Jessica.
Trish's face was dark: "Why did you go looking for Mike?"
Jessica stammered: "You seem to care about him a lot. I just… didn't want you to get hurt."
Jessica fell silent.
As she said, it seemed she was always the one to mess things up.
When did it start, this desperate life?