"West First Street. Drive!"
Yves's mouth twitched slightly. He didn't answer the young cowboy's question directly, just stated the destination in a cold tone. He clearly didn't want to get bogged down in the topic.
Hearing this, the young cowboy slammed a hand on the steering wheel—hard enough to startle everyone else in the car.
Then, his expression instantly turned to ecstatic surprise, and he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"My God, you're Triangle Pants! Man, where'd you run off to? They said you were the one behind that whole thing with Black Eye."
"I said drive. West First Street!"
Yves's stern face looked as if it were coated in frost. A chill emanated from his eyes as he coldly squeezed the words through his teeth.
His tone was heavy with warning, as if promising to smash the young cowboy's mouth in if he dared say another word.
"Okay, okay! We're off!"
