The fish still maintained its brightly colored appearance.
Rand had a delusion that it seemed to detect the arrival of the human, and when he came to the salad bowl, the fish turned angrily and wagged its tail at him... Then it gradually calmed down and recovered. As Rand had seen him before—perhaps a little different—Rand noticed that the color of its surface had become a little more vibrant, the neon-like sheen was now more blue-green, and it looked It doesn't look like it was as gray as before.
Rand quite rightly attributed it all to the well-healed wound on the fish's tail. Perhaps it was originally blue-green, and it was only due to injury that it appeared gray before. As for the appearance of the fish before the cat's roar, Rand didn't care too much. He once accidentally encountered a small black fish in the "experience pool" of the aquarium. That thing swelled into a circle the size of a fist, with disgusting spines on the surface... In contrast, this fish just made its tail fins more colorful.
Rand stretched out his hand and tapped the salad bowl habitually. Sure enough, he saw that the fish had turned into that gorgeous appearance again, and the bright red membrane was trembling at Rand like a red cloak on a bullring.
Maybe the things in the sea are so strange.
Rand thought without pressure, and he now felt that the appearance of this fish as his pet was not too difficult to accept.
Rogers came back about half an hour later and graciously took Rand to the hospital for an expensive and painful rabies shot, while the doctors there helped re-treat the wound on Rand's hand as he walked out of the hospital. There was an extra ring of gauze on the wrist when the door was opened.
The next thing to do is to pray that Mrs. Smith's black cat doesn't show symptoms of rabies within seven days, in which case Rand must return to the hospital for follow-up treatment.
Rand didn't think that would be a pleasant thing—in fact, as he walked out of the hospital, he had already started to have a low-grade fever because of the vaccine.
"Don't worry," Rogers apparently thought Rand's terrifying face was from worrying about the damn cat, "Juana has always been a weird character, and Mrs Smith lost her brother yesterday... ah, that's the one named Ke Lola's cat, so he has an extra grumpy personality today."
"Is that cat really lost?"
Rand braced himself to speak to Rogers, even though his head hurt as if it were about to split.
Compared with cat scratching, the headache and low-grade fever caused by vaccines are more unbearable.
It seemed that it was about to rain, and the air became sticky as if it had added glue. Rand felt as if he could smell a faint fishy smell.
The smell of sea water, blood and rotting animals, but when he sniffed carefully all he could smell was the strong perfume of Rogers' car.
"… yes, forgot to mention, Mrs Smith's balcony is very close to your kitchen window, sometimes her cat sneaks out to your kitchen, you better remember to close the window in time. I think she probably does too. That's why I found you..."
Rogers said something else after that, but Rand couldn't help but leaned against the window and closed his eyes. He slowed down and turned his head to stare at Rand: a thin face, a tired expression, pale lips, and by the standards of a grown man, Rand slept with a naivety that was utterly disproportionate to his age. breath.
Rogers couldn't help sticking out his tongue and licking the corner of his mouth, then laughed.
When he got back to the apartment, Rand was still asleep, even in the state of a fever patient. into his arms and transported him back to Rand's own room.
He put Landean on the bed, changed him into pajamas with extreme meticulousness, scrubbed his face, and finally covered him with the quilt.
If Rand woke up, he would be 100% horrified by the unusually happy smile on Rogers' face, who had done everything in good order and stood by the bed and looked at Rand.
"You're still as cute as ever."
He leaned into Rand's ear and said softly.
Rand, who had a calm expression before, obviously frowned after this sentence. He trembled unsteadily, as if he had fallen into an extremely terrifying dream.
And Rogers seemed even more happy after seeing his appearance.
His eyes shone like a wild beast, and the last person who saw his gaze had become a dead bone under the tombstone.
However, in the end, Rogers did nothing.
He turned and left the Rand house, went straight downstairs and started his car towards the suburbs.
Everything was going well for Rogers, except that he got a call from Caroline halfway through—
"Yes, I'm sorry, but it's just a cat! A cat... well, well I admit I was wrong..."
Caroline's attitude towards Rand's injury can only be described as "hysterical", and Rogers even began to be glad that he got Rand home and returned to the car - if it was at home, he was very worried that Caroline was in the car. The growl on the phone would wake up Rand, who was sleeping with a fever.
Of course, Rogers wouldn't admit that a large part of Caroline's rants had to do with what he was doing now: He had left Rand behind and was driving alone to the countryside.
"...I've put enough traps around his room that I swear there won't be any problems... God, are you going to have to wrestle with that cat?"
…
"Well, I admit I'm out of town for a reason now, I'll be back soon to protect our 'Princess' Highness, I swear the dragon won't eat him up in such a short time. Seriously, I just can't understand what you're thinking, I mean, Rand is just a normal person, why are you acting like he's going to be killed in the next second?"
Rogers said to Caroline with a hint of deliberate malice, and no surprise, the other party avoided this topic. After the ultimatum, Caroline hung up.
And Rogers giggled as he listened to the busy tone in the microphone. Unlike the vexed tone on the phone, he actually had a pleasant smile on his face from start to finish.
He hummed to a brisk tune and drove the car down the trail. Next to a large birch forest, there was a sign that read "Private Domain, No Entry" on the rusted barbed wire, and behind it was a dilapidated house that no one had been in for many years.
Rogers unlocked the barbed wire and drove in—the dirt track was hard from the sun, but the tire marks were still visible—the same one Rogers was driving now.
He parked the car in the garage and opened the trunk.
The smell of blood and rotting ran out like a beast, and Mrs. Smith's body twisted and tucked in unnaturally.
A fly flies in and rests on her cracked skull, and her face takes on a comical expression, her mouth wide open and a fuchsia tongue hanging out of her throat.
Rogers raised his eyebrows.
"Shh," he said to her cautiously, "you should be quiet. Oh, yes, you should also take care of your cat."
He says.