American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 34 Logan: You are such a good friend of mine! Locke!
"So be it."

Logan scratched his messy hair and turned to walk towards the door.

"If you're in trouble, go to the post office and send a letter to Metropolitan Brooklyn Avenue, 114-51-4, and someone will give it to me."

Steel boots thudded against the wooden floor. Logan opened the door, still mumbling, "But it's almost the 21st century, Locke. You should go buy a keypad phone. Do you have to wait until the smartphone era?"

"Ah."

Locke leaned against the door frame with his arms folded.

"If I really bought you a cell phone, would you be able to receive messages if you're a primitive person who can't even use an induction cooker?"

Logan walked onto the porch and shrugged, the moonlight giving his back a silver edge.

"Who knows."

He reached out and pushed open the door, and the night wind brought the fragrance of wheat to his face.

"Let's go, Locke."

As soon as the words fell, Logan blended into the night like last time, disappearing like a lone wolf.
Locke sighed.

Last time, because he was not familiar with it, he could watch it disappear naturally.

but.
This time it's a future friend
After silently complaining that he was becoming more and more as soft-hearted as Martha, Locke shouted.

"stop."

Logan paused.

"Tomorrow is Dio and Clark's birthday party."

He could hear a hint of helplessness in Locke's voice.

"Let's finish the event before we leave."

In the moonlight, Logan's mouth curled up into an exaggerated arc, but he quickly suppressed it.

He turned and walked back to the living room, throwing himself heavily onto the sofa, his military boots casually placed on the coffee table:

"Good night, farmer."

As soon as he finished speaking, a deafening snoring sound began.

"."

The vein on Locke's forehead twitched.

"Why is this guy so familiar?"

He muttered and complained quietly, "Can you please give back the cool Logan from before, asshole!"

Shaking his head helplessly, Locke turned off the lights in the living room and walked towards the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked slightly, and the sound of footsteps gradually faded away and finally disappeared at the end of the corridor.

After a while.
In the darkness, Logan, who should have been asleep, suddenly opened his eyes.

The steel claws popped out silently, gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"Logan, ah Logan"

He looked up at the ceiling and said to himself, "How could you be so depraved?"

The wolf felt that he was doomed.

Because a strange feeling of warmth always lingers in my heart——

This shabby farm living room actually made him feel more at ease than any of his safe houses.

Wolverine turned over irritably and buried his face in the cushions that smelled of sunshine.

"It must be the remnant of my future self's consciousness."

He complained gloomily, "Damn it, the warmth of home is here."

Outside the window, an owl hooted and the occasional mooing of a cow could be heard.

Logan took a deep breath and clenched his fists with determination:
"Last night."

He announced to the empty living room, "I'll leave after the party tomorrow and definitely not cause any trouble for my friends."

But just after he finished saying this, Logan suddenly froze.

Because the word 'friend' just came out so naturally, as if they had known each other for years.

Wolverine ruffled his hair in annoyance and chose to bury his face in the sofa cushions.

But what he failed to discover was.
In the shadows of the second-floor corridor, Locke silently raised the corners of his mouth.

Labor force +1.
-
The next morning, Logan was awakened by a burst of dazzling sunlight.

He opened his eyes drowsily and saw Locke standing in front of the sofa with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." The farmer said with a mischievous smile, "The sun is shining on your butt."

"Shit"

Logan sat up suddenly, and his steel claws reflexively popped out three inches—

But he immediately realized that he was in the living room of Locke's house.

He scratched his hair in frustration: "I slept so soundly."

Looking around the warm, sun-drenched living room, Wolverine rarely failed to immediately go on alert.

Forget it
Just indulge for this day.

He stretched, his steel joints cracking.

"Come on, Locke." Logan yawned, "Let me sing a happy birthday song for the little birthday boys, ok."

"Leave a good impression on the emperor so that he won't torture me in the future."

"late."

Locke handed him the coffee, "They went to school at eight o'clock, and it's already nine in the morning."

Logan took the coffee and touched his nose awkwardly:
“Then let me help prepare for the birthday party? I can make a Canadian maple syrup cake.” “Martha and Jonathan are preparing it.”

Locke interrupted ruthlessly.

Logan's expression became brilliant.

He ruffled his hair in frustration, leaving several new scratches on the armrest of the sofa with his steel claws.

"This won't work, that won't work, Locke, do you really take me seriously?"

friend.

The two words were stuck in his throat, and Logan was too embarrassed to say them out loud.

However, looking at this powerful mutant warrior curled up on the sofa like a wronged large dog, Locke finally couldn't help laughing out loud.

"my friend."

Locke suddenly said seriously, "We do have a great mission today."

Logan's eyes lit up.

"We're already friends, so what are you waiting for?"

"I've been waiting for you to say that!"

Pulling out a sharp sickle from his back, Locke threw it to Logan accurately:

"Come on, friends! Today is harvest day. Let's go to the fields and work happily together!"

The sunlight came through the window and hit the sickle's shiny blade, reflecting a dazzling spot of light.

Logan's expression froze.

He looked down at the sickle, then looked up at Locke, who was smiling innocently, and his steel claws unconsciously popped out:
"F********!" Wolverine gritted his teeth, "You really are my good friend, Locke!"

"Each each other."

Locke put on his overalls and was now filling his kettle with iced lemonade. "Didn't someone say he would keep an eye on me last night?"

Cursing, he stood up and slashed the sofa with his steel claws.
He stopped suddenly.

With his back to Locke, he stared silently at the dense claw marks on the armrest for two seconds.

Did you sleep too comfortably last night?

Glancing at the busy man behind him, Logan quietly took out a few crumpled US dollar bills from his pocket and placed them on the coffee table.

Cough
We are friends now, so you shouldn’t care about these claw marks, right?

What's more, I gave money.

"Let's go, Locke."

Logan picked up his sickle and strode towards the door. "Let me show you what the 'Canadian Harvest Legend' is."

Locke followed with a smile.

He then asked Star Platinum to put the money left by Logan back into his leather jacket pocket.

I don't know what Dio and Clark are doing.
He remembered that Dio and Clark asked him for two lemons today, saying that they were going to do an experiment at school.

Experiment.
Forget it, let me wish the kids good luck first.

And today is my birthday, so maybe I can go pick them up with Jonathan?
Smallwell is the only primary school in town.

"Classmates, today we will try to squeeze lemon juice and separate the lemon pulp into slices for observation."

The chemistry teacher, wearing thick glasses, tapped the blackboard. "Everyone, please follow the steps in the lab manual and use the tools carefully!"

offstage.

Dio was gracefully adjusting the test tube rack, a hint of amusement flashing in his red eyes.

Because his deskmate——

Neil Worthington, the new transfer student from a wealthy family, was watching his actions out of the corner of his eye with a malicious smile on his face.

Even if he didn't speak, Dio could smell the taste of this guy's mouth.

Even silence reeks of the stench of frozen pork chops turning to wax.
as expected
"Hey, Dio."

Worthington lowered his voice and deliberately knocked over Dio's beaker.

"I heard your father is a farmer?"

"No wonder you always smell like manure."

As soon as he finished speaking, the two or three followers beside him started to snicker.

Dio slowly straightened the beaker and tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingertips.

"Mr. Worthington, your father is the owner of a small town pharmacy. He's also a doctor, right?"

"You need your uncle to take a good look at you. Your hands were shaking so much when you were slicing lemons that I thought it was Joni."

Worthington was stunned.

Is there a Joni in the class?
He turned and looked at the follower beside him.

But they also shook their heads.

"Who is Joni?" he asked puzzled.

"Oh, that's the eighty-year-old grandmother on the side of the road in town. The lemonade she makes is terrible."

"I heard it's because of Alzheimer's disease."

Alzheimer's? What is it?
Are you scolding me?
Worthington was very confused, but his face turned red instantly.

only because.
Behind Dio, most of the class burst into laughter.

They are all Dio's followers.

(End of this chapter)