Bola, sitting next to Red Falcon, said that ever since they got in the car, Red Falcon had been chirping non-stop—Bola almost wanted to sew his mouth shut.
"Ah..."
Red Falcon, more or less heeding Bola's words, stopped complaining and let out a long, low sound, as if being strangled, with only his breath endlessly escaping his throat.
The sound echoed in the carriage; the lighting was already dim, and with everyone looking tired and serious, the atmosphere became even more tense and awkward.
"Does anyone want to hear a joke?" Red Falcon suddenly said again, "I'm not complaining."
The others ignored him, while Lorenzo across from him slowly raised his head, glanced at Red Falcon, and then turned to look out the window.
"Alright, alright."
Red Falcon slumped down, leaning against the back of his seat, waiting for the destination to arrive.
