In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group Chapter 466: Is Schiller sick?
"The Days of Being a Spiritual Mentor in Meiman"
, the days when I was a spiritual mentor in Meiman
In the middle of winter, on the branches of dry trees, the little sparrows lined up and combed their feathers. One of them spread its wings and flew to the ground, jumping and jumping in the snow all over the ground. Look for food that might be there.
One hand sprinkled a piece of bread crumbs, and many sparrows gathered around. The bakery owner in a cotton cap and apron straightened his waist and slapped the remaining bread crumbs off his hands.
There was a "creak", and the sound of the bicycle brakes came. The tightly wrapped newsboy took off his gloves and knocked on the bicycle bell with his fingers.
Wearing thick cotton boots, the owner of the bakery stepped on the snow on the ground, and the sparrows that had just fallen flew up in groups. He strode across the sidewalk and came to the street. took the newspaper in his hand.
"It's you clever little devil again! You must know that the gentlemen here are the best at talking, and you can grab jobs here every time."
The newspaper boy is a freckled little boy, just like most children in Gotham, lively, wild, and full of rebellion.
These children shuttle through the streets and alleys of Gotham like this. They are not afraid of wind, frost, rain and snow, and are always full of vitality. landscape.
The bakery gave the newsboy a small piece of toasted black bread, and he asked, "Is there any gossip recently?"
The newsboy picked up the bread and took a bite. He was so hot that he gasped. While gasping into his mouth, he said intermittently, "The situation is not bad."
"I heard that the charity dinner at the Metropolitan Metropolis was very successful, and the rich and wealthy people donated a lot of money to solve the traffic problems caused by the snow disaster."
"I heard that after our mayor received the donation, he bought several large snow removal vehicles. Now the central turntable and the pier in the East District have been cleared, otherwise it would not be able to resume traffic today."
The newsboy took another bite of the hot black bread, his nose was red from the cold, he wiped his nose with his hands, took another two breaths of cold air, and said:
"Gotham University will be resuming classes today. You can see that the group of pampered teachers and professors can drive to work, and you know that good days are coming soon."
"Thank God!" The bakery owner sneezed, rubbed his nose, and said in a low voice:
"The traffic has been paralyzed for the past few days, and I can't sell my bread. If it weren't for you guys, who can help me deliver things to those regular customers, I'm afraid the store would have closed long ago."
"Oh, that's right!" The bakery owner suddenly remembered something, he stretched out a hand, shook his finger, patted his forehead, turned around, hurried back to the shop, and Startled many sparrows that were looking for food.
After a while, he came out with a brown paper bag, and said, "Professor Rodriguez's butler called last night and ordered the bread that was just baked this morning, and you can deliver it to me. I treat you to black rice cakes and sausages for lunch today..."
The newsboy snapped his fingers to indicate that there is no problem. After he took the brown paper bag, he stuffed it into his arms, leaned forward, held the handlebar of the bicycle, stepped on the pedal hard, and the bicycle rushed out up.
Seeing his back disappearing on the street, the bakery owner shook his head and strode back to his shop. When he went to the counter to check the order records, he said to himself:
"It's so strange, didn't that professor always like to eat lye bread? Why did he buy butter toast instead?"
The flipped order form made a "rustling" sound, and the bakery owner shook his head and whispered, "...Probably a visitor."
"When, when, when, when, when..."
When the manor's clock rang, Schiller stood in front of the French windows on the first floor, stretched, yawned, then walked to the dining table and picked up the water glass on it.
He took a water glass and walked around the hall on the first floor, then stopped in the middle of the room in some confusion, and began to think about a question - if he wanted to drink water, where should he find it?
In Marvel's nursing home, the place where Schiller lived was remodeled from the original bank president's lounge. It is a one-bedroom room with a living room and an electric kettle on the table in the bedroom. There is an automatic water dispenser, every morning, you can find drinking water within 10 steps.
Schiller knows that it is now 1988, and he also experienced this era before time travel, but he did not own a manor when he experienced this era.
Standing in the front hall of the manor with an area of more than 600 square meters, Schiller was a little confused and thought, is this the life of an aristocrat?
Just as Schiller was standing at the stairs with a cup in his hand, hesitating whether to walk for 10 minutes to find the kitchen, Merkel hurried down the stairs.
It can be seen that he is really anxious, the suit jacket is not buttoned properly, the tie is not fastened, even the hair is simply combed twice, and there are still two strands of hair on the top of the head that have not been subdued.
"Sorry sir, why did you get up so early today?"
"Morning?" Schiller looked down at his watch, it was 5:30 in the morning, and then he turned his head to look at the window, the sky outside the window was still dark.
Merkel wiped her eyes vigorously, trying to wake herself up, but felt that her thoughts were still very confused. He was deeply shocked by Schiller's unpredictable schedule.
Before coming here, what he learned in the butler academy is that a butler should adapt to the employer's work and rest time as much as possible so as to provide them with timely services.
So, after coming to work at the Rodriguez estate, Merkel worked hard to adjust her schedule to be the same as that of Schiller.
Before, Schiller's work and rest schedule was outrageous. In this era without any electronic equipment, he often stayed up until two or three o'clock in the middle of the night before going to bed. I usually wake up at noon, and then just have a brunch.
Merkel finally adjusted his normal schedule to be exactly the same as Schiller's in the underworld, but since Schiller returned from the Metropolis, his schedule has returned to normal, even a bit too normal, every night Sleep between 8:00~9:00, wake up between 5:00~6:00 in the morning...
Merkel stood on the steps, leaning on the armrest of the chair, feeling dizzy, but he still tried to pull himself together. He took the water glass in Schiller's hand and said, "Sorry, sir, I woke up this morning. No one is arranged to boil the water, so I'll go right away, do you want breakfast?"
"Of course, didn't you order bread for me last night?"
"Uh, but the newsboys in the West District can't come until 7:30 at the earliest, and the newspaper office and bakery are not open at this time."
Schiller glanced at the street outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the right, but it was still pitch black, and there was no one there.
Although Gotham can be regarded as an international metropolis, after all, it is around the 1990s, and the pace of life is not so fast, and the West End is originally an old city, and the old-fashioned rich people live here. Few people get up so early.
Schiller sighed, and he said, "Okay, call me when breakfast is ready."
After finishing speaking, he went upstairs and returned to the bedroom, while Merkel, who was standing on the stairs, looked at Schiller's back upstairs, and became more and more puzzled.
If this happens often, Schiller will definitely joke with him with cold humor, such as "I hope you can order bread on the phone next time faster than the group of sparrows in front of the bakery "And so on, then give up breakfast and drive to Gotham University for class.
Of course, Merkel did not forget that strange dream she had.
At that time, he wanted to find some clues in the manor while Schiller was away, and then he found that the doors of all the important rooms were locked, and then set up a series of puzzles, which cost him a lot of effort After solving these puzzles, he entered Schiller's dream by touching a bottle of wine on the shelf.
At that time, Merkel had no choice but to ask Schiller to help him protect the mysterious East Coast agent and protect the list. Schiller did not answer him directly, and Merkel had no way of knowing the date of the banquet. In the end what happened.
For him, the mysterious agent is still missing, and the list is also unknown. The only good thing is that he is sure that his employer doesn't mind that he is actually a Soviet agent, as long as he does his job well, Perhaps this will become a stable disguise.
But now, his biggest trouble is that since Schiller came back from the Met's charity dinner, he seems to be a different person, from his work and rest schedule, living habits to the way he speaks, they are completely different.
From the first day Merkel came here, he wanted to collect enough information about his employer, which not only helped him work more smoothly, but also was part of his secret service work. Merkel felt that she had figured out Schiller's temper.
As a result, all his efforts are now in vain.
The boiling kettle whistled sharply. Merkel quickly walked across the corridor and took the kettle off the stove. He took a towel from the wall hook next to it, wrapped it around the handle of the kettle, and carried The jug came to the front hall of the manor, and after filling it, he carried the tray upstairs.
In the bedroom, Schiller was leaning on the bedside reading a book. Merkel put the water on the bedside table, and then paused with some hesitation.
Schiller put down the book and looked up. He asked, "What's wrong? Didn't the breakfast preparation go well?"
"Well, no, sir, I just want to say... just... why have you been a little... um..."
"Oh~IndoMTL.com~ I have an anxiety attack, so my behavior will be a little different from before, don't mind, maybe it will get better soon."
"Anxiety?" Merkel muttered to herself with some doubts, but thinking of Schiller's unusual temper before, he felt that this explanation barely made sense.
Just when he was about to ask in detail, suddenly, the mailbox bell rang softly from downstairs, and he looked back at the clock hanging on the wall, it was only 6 o'clock.
Merkel left the room quickly, put down the tray, put on his coat, and walked out the gate of the manor. Sure enough, the newsboy was standing in front of the mailbox outside the door, waving at him.
"Why are you so early today?"
Merkel greeted him very familiarly. There are very few newspaper boys who travel to and from the West District, and Merkel knows almost all of them. Today, the one he is most familiar with has the small freckles on his face. It is easy to identify him.
"The traffic at the pier in the East District has completely recovered, don't you know? After delivering the newspapers here, I have to go there to grab work."
"Traffic at the pier has resumed?" Merkel took the newspaper and a bag of bread from the newsboy, then took a few coins from his pocket and put them in the newsboy's palm. The newsboy raised his eyebrows, and before he could ask, Merkel said:
"You came too early today, the bread hasn't been baked yet, the cold bread is too hard, it will break your teeth, you'd better go buy something to eat yourself."
The newsboy reached out, stuffed the coin into his pocket, narrowed his eyes and smiled, looking naughty and cute, and said:
"Say hello to Professor Rodriguez for me! He's a great guy, always has been!"