Before he could finish, the broad palm on his shoulder applied slight pressure, causing the rest of his words to stick in his throat.
Brook gazed into his eyes, slowly but firmly shaking his head.
No way.
"This..."
Cyril's expression turned somewhat awkward, unsure of how to continue arguing.
At that moment, Brewer silently turned his head, attempting to avoid the other's gaze.
Rustle, rustle.
Just as the atmosphere between the two men became awkward, the rustling sound among the bushes next to them was followed by a little head poking through the leaves.
A little girl with white cat ears looked at the two of them, her sparkling eyes and a clear smile easing the awkwardness between the two grown men.
The intruding little girl feigned maturity as she coughed once, saying loudly, "Uncle Cyril, don't get it wrong! My dad doesn't dislike you, he actually wants to say—this matter has nothing to do with you."
