Wine and Gun

Herstal was holding the knife in his left hand - he used it more lightly than his right, and Albarino suddenly realized that in Eliot's basement, he had killed the man with the knife in his right hand. What a loss to the audience - deftly picking off the top button of Albarino's shirt with the tip of a knife.

They heard the crisp crash of the metal button rolling into the darkness, and Herstal whispered, "You appreciate my killing—even if it was you."

"Even if it were me," agreed Albarino, who gave a light, breathless laugh, after all Herstal had a hand on his neck, "though I doubt you It really does, your victims end up like that because you're sure they don't deserve your respect."

The end of the sentence was drawn into a soft grunt, as Herstal let go of Albarino's neck, and turned his right hand against his chest; The position where the button was picked up was slashed downward, the sharp blade easily cut through the fabric of the shirt, and the tip of the knife penetrated slightly into the skin, creating a long cut.

- Deflected from the chest down to the side of the rib cage. The pierced place was the shallowest, just a thin skin wound. As the incision stretched, the wound became deeper, and the depth of the wound at the point where the knife was drawn was about one centimeter.

This depth is also just skin, fat layers and capillaries. No one will die from a wound of this depth, but the rich nerves are always dutifully transmitting pain to the brain.

Herstal could feel the soft belly skin trembling frantically under his fingers, and blood began to seep from under the cloth like spilled paint.

He used the tip of the knife to pick apart the broken piece of fabric, and the torn edge of the fabric was wet and covered with sinking blood, and when it fell and piled into a ball, it made a heavy clatter. So Herstal could look directly at the knife mark, stretched out on his skin in the warm orange halo of the fire. The edge of the knife scar will gradually become red and swollen, and the blood will continue to overflow from the skin, showing a full color almost black under the firelight.

Albarino's voice was hoarse and trembling as he said, "Herstal."

"Stunning," Herstal replied in a low voice.

Albariño's heart beat vigorously where his fingers were pressed, steady despite the pain and the threat of the blade, it was almost enviable. He could feel a series of low, almost laughter sounds trembling in his chest, and then he was pulled into gasp by the sound of the next knife falling.

——Hestal cut Albarino's clothes into pieces in this way, and then pulled them from him one by one; of course, at the same time, those thin knife marks spread all over his body like cobwebs. Skin: Most of them are shallow in the middle, just oozing a string of coral stone necklaces along the edges of the wound, without even needing to suture.

But the long, red threads wrapped around him like silk, leaving a swell of redness, a vague tingling, and a real pinprick on the skin.

While Herstal was doing this, he could feel the body half-heartedly writhing and struggling under his grasp, the wound oozing blood with every movement of Albarino, in Herstal's The hand rubbed all over his chest as it moved, like ochre and crimson smeared away from an oil painting canvas.

Albarino lay under him, hands bound, completely naked, looking almost submissive. This scene is indeed ironic in a sense: because his skin is covered with knife marks, almost smeared with fresh and half-gān blood, yīnjīng has softened under the pain, but his pair of slightly loose Something in the green eye was telling the fact that it was because of his permission that things had come this far—a joyous radiance that belonged to the victor.

So much so that the gardener even had time to point out creatively in the pain of Herstal's fingers stroking the wounds: "The condom box is in the cabinet against the wall."

His tone sounded almost gentle, even in the throes of painful gasps, as if Herstal wasn't squeezing blood from a deep cut in his waist.

It was on the way to find the box of condoms that Herstal really got a taste of the irony, as the other was apparently still planning a strategy of "leaving no traceable DNA," which Sunday gardener's vice is trying to do. Make this game infinitely long.

Herstal was careful not to rub the blood on the glove when he opened the drawer. Perhaps the last thing the CSI team needed to see was a blood stain on the outside of the condom drawer by the Westland pianist. handprint.

The box had been torn open, but the contents had not moved at all—not surprising, to be honest, Herstal couldn't imagine Albarino bringing any of his one-night stand objects into the house scene, he must be the type to spend the night at each other's house. This can be deduced from the private decoration of this house: it belongs to Albarino's territory, and he really does not like any outskirts that invade the territory.

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