As the movie marathon progressed, the emotional exertions of the day caught up with Altair. Gradually, he succumbed to the arms of sleep, his breathing deepening into a rhythmic cadence indicative of peaceful slumber. He slouched comfortably on the couch, lost in the tranquility of rest. Bernice, ever observant, approached Sunny and whispered, contemplating whether they should wake Altair and guide him to a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.
Sunny, observing the peaceful expression gracing Altair's face, softly declined the suggestion. "No, let him be." She then fetched a cozy blanket from a nearby closet and gently laid it over him, taking care to ensure his comfort. As she did so, her eyes reflected a rare, tender fondness.
Bernice, with the practiced skill of an experienced housekeeper, began tidying up the room, moving with a quiet precision designed not to disturb the serene atmosphere. Sunny lingered for a while, her gaze affectionately fixed on Altair's sleeping form. In his slumber, the troubles that usually clouded his eyes were absent, replaced by the peacefulness of deep rest, a vulnerability that Sunny felt privileged to witness.
The room's ambiance subtly shifted with the entrance of a distinguished figure. An older man, clad in an impeccably tailored three-piece suit and topped with a classic fedora, exuded an aura of timeless elegance and authority. His presence commanded respect, not through intimidation but through a palpable sense of wisdom and experience.
Spotting Sunny beside Altair, the man's voice, a comfortable rumble, carried a teasing note. "If you keep staring at him like that, he might just melt under your gaze."
Sunny's face lit up with recognition and delight. She rushed across the room and embraced him enthusiastically. "You're back!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled against the fabric of his suit. The man chuckled warmly, returning her hug with a gentle firmness.
"Enjoying your evening with Altair?" he asked, his eyes twinkling playfully as he glanced towards the couch.
Sunny's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her bashful smile revealing her feelings. "Yes! We watched movies together," she confessed.
"A date, then?" the man teased, smoothing her hair affectionately as they parted from the hug.
Sunny's blush deepened, her joy evident in her glowing expression, yet she offered no denial.
The man then turned his attention to Altair's slumbering form. "And why is our esteemed guest napping here on the couch?" he asked, his voice loud enough to potentially wake Altair.
"He must be tired, I guess?" Sunny said, her tone laced with concern.
The old man's laughter resonated through the room, rich and hearty. "The Demon of 8 Dragons? Tired? Now, that's news!" He guffawed, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
It was this booming laughter that eventually stirred Altair from his sleep. Blinking away remnants of slumber, he sat up, a playful scowl crossing his face. "I was sleeping peacefully until some old dog started making a racket," he grumbled, though his words lacked any real animosity.
The old man, Gino, chuckled with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Did I wake you up?" He paused, his grin widening. "Because that was the plan," he confessed cheekily, the corners of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk.
A subtle yet palpable tension filled the air, noticeable to Altair and Gino but seemingly elusive to Sunny and Bernice.
Altair, pushing off from the couch, stood up and respectfully extended his hand towards Gino. His manner shifted to one of reverence. "How have you been, old man? Gino?" he inquired, his tone carrying a familiarity that spoke of a deeper, longstanding relationship.
"Always good, my child," Gino replied softly, a hint of affection in his voice.
Altair's face briefly flickered with annoyance. "Could you not use that title? I've always hated it," he grumbled, clearly disliking the label 'Demon of 8 Dragons.'
Gino's laughter was hearty and genuine as he made himself comfortable on the couch, his posture relaxed and unguarded. "Ah, but the '8 Dragons' was the highlight of your career, wasn’t it? Now you're just cherry-picking clients at your leisure," he jested, a playful glint in his eyes.
A smirk played on Altair’s lips, pride in his past exploits evident. "While I handpick clients, I choose those that promise a challenge," he stated, his voice deep and thoughtful.
Gino, casually loosening his tie, leaned back and regarded Altair with a blend of amusement and curiosity. "And yet, you handed over all your clients to Weiss," he pointed out, his lips twisted in a wry smile.
This comment drew a hearty laugh from Altair. "How is Weiss these days? I hope he appreciated my 'gift'," he said, still chuckling at the thought of his former colleague.
Gino's face lit up with mirth. "Weiss was proud at first, until he realized how demanding your clients are. He even asked me to punch you for leaving him with such a 'gift'," he recounted, air-quoting the last word.
Sunny, who had been quietly following their exchange, suddenly spoke up. "I don’t really like Weiss. He’s handsome, but he lacks in almost everything," she commented, her tone candid.
Gino's laughter resonated through the room, his mood contagiously jovial. "Weiss is a wise man," he quipped, then chuckled harder as he realized the pun. Regaining his composure, he added, "Marrying into this family, especially Sunny, would be a career booster."
At this, Sunny blushed lightly, a shy smile touching her lips. "But I’ve already set my sights on someone else," she admitted in a hushed voice.
Intrigued, Gino leaned in slightly, his interest piqued. "Is this person in the room right now?" he asked, his tone playful yet probing.
Sunny’s cheeks deepened in color as she quickly excused herself from the room, leaving behind a trail of laughter from the two gentlemen.
In the room, the air seemed to thicken as Gino's demeanor shifted from jovial to serious, his eyes locking onto Altair with an intensity that mirrored the gravity of his question.
"Why the sudden visit, Altair? It’s been a decade since you’ve been here, and you’re well aware Elise is long gone from this place."
Altair, adept at sidestepping direct confrontations, feigned exasperation. "You're quite the interrogator, aren't you? Grilling me while I’m parched?"
His words, though light, couldn't mask the underlying tension.
Gino’s laughter briefly punctured the solemnity of the moment. He motioned towards a soda on the table. "There’s your drink, child."
Altair smirked. "Still treating me like a kid, I see."
Gino responded smoothly, "In my eyes, you’re still that child. Until you come to me with a serious proposal for Sunny, you're just another young man in a big world."
Shaking his head, Altair chuckled softly. "That’s not why I’m here, Gino. I just needed a break."
Gino's expression softened, his voice carrying a hint of concern. "Trouble in paradise?" He gestured to Bernice, signaling for her to bring something stronger. "Fetch us something with a bit more kick."
Altair relaxed slightly, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I thought you’d gone stingy on the good stuff."
Gino leaned back, his fingers intertwining thoughtfully. "Unburden yourself. I’m all ears."
Altair’s expression hardened. "This isn't about Stella," he stated firmly.
"I suspected as much," Gino replied calmly. "What’s the real issue, then?"
"It’s complex. Stella isn't the antagonist; she’s caught in someone else's web."
Altair’s admission seemed to weigh heavily on him.
Gino’s gaze sharpened. "I presume you’ve identified the real puppet masters?"
Altair nodded. "Yes, and we’re planning our move. It was unexpected, but we’re ready."
Gino nodded approvingly, then sighed. "I’m retired now. No more dirty work for me."
Bernice appeared with a bottle of Macallan, its amber contents glinting in the light. Gino poured them each into a glass, and Altair savored the rich aroma before taking a sip, the flavors exploding on his tongue.
Gino broke the silence, his voice filled with wisdom. "You know the problem won’t just disappear, right?"