American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 25 The relationship is complicated
Leon, weary from his journey, stepped into the Continental Hotel in Casablanca.

His eyes were sunken, and his coat was wrinkled from the long flight. The old friend went straight to the private reception area, his gaze drawn to the view in the garden.

Matilda was rolling around on the lawn, giggling, while two Belgian Malinois circled around her happily.

“MI6 has completely gone mad.” Leon pulled out a cigarette. “They’ve deployed chemical warfare troops to the Forest Club, the woods where the Scotland Yard superintendent’s son was murdered. Those lunatics say they want to collect all the blood-sucking mosquitoes in order to find the DNA of a killer called Beta.”

Matilda tossed the frisbee into the distance, and two fierce dogs darted out like arrows.

Leon's gaze followed them: "There's also an assassin codenamed 'Jackal,' who took out the German presidential candidate. Now the entire European intelligence system is like a hornet's nest that's been poked. You'd better pray you didn't leave any trace of life in that forest. The British are serious this time; they can really squeeze your DNA out of the belly of that damned mosquito."

Beta sank into the leather seat, the amber-colored whiskey swaying gently between his fingers.

He squinted, gazing through his wine glass at the sunset's afterglow outside the window: "I've always been a cautious man."

The ice cubes clinked against the glass with a crisp sound: "Although I really didn't expect MI6 to go so far as to check mosquito bellies, it's an occupational hazard, so I didn't skip any of the necessary precautions."

The bottom of the glass tapped softly on the coffee table: "After all, anyone who lives in this business knows that sweat is more deadly than bullets."

Leon struck a match, the orange flame casting a flickering shadow on his sunken eye sockets.

He took a deep drag, the soft crackling of the burning tobacco particularly clear in the quiet drawing room. Smoke curled from his fingers, blurring the image of Matilda chasing her dog in the garden.

Beta said, "I brought Marty for a practical lesson the other day. She was in charge of using her angelic face to trick people into opening the door, and I was in charge of..."

He made a trigger-pulling gesture: "The teamwork was perfect; we recovered that awful debt."

Leon silently exhaled a smoke ring, the grayish-white smoke slowly spreading between the two of them.

Beta leaned forward: "You took her to kill drug dealers?"

Leon flicked his cigarette ash and gave a brief "hmm".

“What kind of family education is this?” Beta leaned back in her chair.

Leon looked up, the cigarette glowing faintly: "So what kind of enlightenment education is this?"

Beta coughed violently, waving away the smoke in front of him: "Damn it, can't you put out that chimney?"

Leon stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the crystal ashtray, the sparks making a faint hissing sound.

Beta swirled her glass around: "Let her go to school like a normal child."

Leon's chin twitched slightly, as if in response.

Beta looked at Leon: "Can't you say a few more words? All you do is nod, shake your head, pretend to be mute, and then you're just being sarcastic?"

Leon glanced at Beta: "You used to be just as sparing with words as I was."

Beta said, "Spending too much time with that chatterbox, it's hard not to catch his charm."

Leon nodded: "She's fine." Those three simple words carried more warmth than usual.

“Sophia is quite fond of her too,” Beta casually remarked.

Leon's silence was like a wall.

“She’s waiting for you in her office upstairs,” Beta added. Leon’s gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the empty wine bottle.

Beta said seriously, "If you don't go up to see her today, don't even think about leaving this room. The Casablanca Continental Hotel is her territory."

Leon hesitated for a moment, then stood up and strode toward the elevator.

After the elevator doors closed completely, Beta stared at them in silence for a few seconds before saying, "I was just kidding."

Beta couldn't figure out the specifics of the conflict between Leon and Sofia. Ever since learning that Matilda was an orphan girl adopted by Leon, Sofia had been subtly inquiring about Leon's whereabouts from time to time.

Now that Leon has finally shown up, how could Beta miss this good show?
And so they waited until dinner time.
-
Beta pushed open the walnut door to the lounge, and the crystal chandelier cast a warm yellow glow onto the long dining table.

As the private domain of the mainland hotel manager, this space exudes understated luxury, with silver cutlery gleaming softly in the candlelight and Burgundy wine swirling in a decanter.

Sofia's carefully arranged dinner lineup was quite subtle: Matilda sat with her legs swinging in a high-backed chair, Leon occupied one end of the long table like a sculpture, and Beta deliberately chose a position where she could observe both of them at the same time.

"Please enjoy." Sophia clapped her hands lightly, and the waiters filed in.

The aroma of charred Angus steak mingled with the scent of rosemary, the baguette still held the warmth of the oven, and the truffle slices on the organic vegetable salad glistened with oil.

Beta's knife sliced ​​across the medium-rare steak, juices seeping from the pink cut. He feigned focus on the food, but his eyes kept scanning the two people opposite him; Sofia's expression was unreadable, and Leon's was his usual expressionless face.

The atmosphere in the room was rather strange.

In contrast, Matilda's eating style was practically performance art. She plunged her silver fork deep into the steak, tearing at the meat like a small animal, her hair whipping through the air in arcs with each movement. Her napkin had long since slipped to the floor, and sauce left a conspicuous mark on the corner of her mouth.

Beta leaned back nimbly, and the steak, torn like a rubber band, on Matilda's fork whizzed past his nose. The steak, coated in black pepper sauce, arced through the air and landed with a "thud" on the napkin holder opposite him, the sauce slowly dripping down the silverware.

Matilda froze, holding the empty fork, then forced a sheepish grin: "Uh, an accident?"

Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a whisper.

Thanks to Matilda's little mishap, the strange atmosphere in the room finally dissipated.

Sofia gracefully wiped her mouth with a napkin and said gently, "It's alright, I'll have them prepare another one for you."

Beta took the flying steak from the napkin holder: "What did you two talk about? First, I have to admit I played a little joke; I lied to Leon and said you were waiting for him."

Leon vehemently denied it: "We didn't talk about anything."

Sofia calmly explained, "Leon will represent me at Helen's funeral. As the manager of the Continental Hotel, I cannot leave the hotel without permission."

Beta nodded thoughtfully: "A representative attending? It seems I understand your relationship now."

"The relationships are indeed quite complicated," Beta sighed. "Although they're a bit messy, thankfully they're still within the normal range."

Matilda then began to devour the vegetable salad on the table.

Although her eating manners weren't exactly elegant, they were undeniably appetizing. She crunched away at the salad dressing-covered leafy greens, just like a rabbit.

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(End of this chapter)