In the next ten minutes, Feng Bujue ate five bowls of snacks and drank eight glasses of water from a whiskey glass.
When he opened the game menu again, the feelings of hunger and thirst had completely disappeared, and his physical energy value had returned to 1902/4800, and even his survival value had been slightly improved, reaching over 70%.
It seems that in this script, the "recovery" and "attenuation" ratios of various values are the same, and they are all based on the actual body feeling of the character. In short...it is consumed quickly and recovered quickly.
In addition, while Brother Jue was chewing food, he did not forget to use this time to communicate with NPCs.
Although the speech is a bit unclear, the two NPCs have very good hearing and can completely understand what Brother Jue means.
Therefore, he successfully became close to these two people.
"Okay... we have talked a lot about my affairs." After making up for it, Feng Bujue drank another glass of water, rinsed his mouth, and then changed the topic, "Why don't we... chat
Let’s talk about you two…”
As soon as these words came out, the expressions on the shooter's and Yang's faces immediately changed.
But Brother Jue ignored this. He didn't leave the other party time to think, and quickly asked: "I wonder how long it has been since you two came to this town?"
Click——click——
One point and five seconds later, the muzzles of the two guns were aimed at Feng Bujue's temple and forehead respectively.
In that one point and five seconds, Yang took out a shotgun from under the bar with lightning speed; and the shooter uncle took out a revolver directly from himself, and he drew the gun quickly.
As fast as lightning, a real cowboy is probably no more than that.
"Oh~oh~calm down...calm down..." Feng Bujue quickly raised his hands, stood up from the chair at the bar, and took half a step back.
"Tell me! Who are you?" Yang asked in a cold voice, "Did the f*ck send you here?"
"I don't think he looks like it." Uncle Archer continued, "More like a CIA..." The muzzle of his gun slowly moved down, "Otherwise... let's break one of his legs first, and then ask slowly
…”
"Hey! Don't mess around!" Feng Bujue's eyes widened. He showed his panic with very exaggerated acting skills, and continued, "I just came to town to apply for a job as a postman!"
"Yes, you just said this story." The shooter replied with a grin, "But we don't believe a word of it..." He glanced at Yang, "Right, old man."
"That's right..." Yang continued, "I didn't realize it at first. I thought he was just someone who came in for food and drinks..." He paused and looked back at the shooter, "until you winked at me.
.I just realized...how could someone walk into a bar at noon to drink water and eat snacks?" At this point, he clenched the gun in his hand a little tighter, glared at Brother Jue and said, "You obviously are.
Come to us!"
"Hey... I don't know you at all..." Feng Bujue broke into a cold sweat.
But those two people still ignored his words...
"Just tell me..." the shooter continued with a smile, "I felt there was something wrong with you as soon as you entered the bar door. I asked you to stay just to test you..." He snorted coldly, "Huh... temporary postman
?Who are you lying to?" He also held the gun a little tighter, as if he was ready to pull the trigger at any time. "Just last night, a man came to the store who claimed to be going to the post office for an interview. Even if he is in town today,
There are many temporary postmen here. It’s him who is the right one..."
"Wait!" Feng Bujue suddenly raised his voice and said, "The person you are talking about...is he wearing a very elegant felt hat?"
"Huh?" The shooter was obviously stunned when he heard this.
Seeing the other party's reaction, Brother Jue felt a little calmer. He knew... there was something interesting about this matter.
"How did you know?" The shooter asked Yang after exchanging glances.
"I saw him at the post office in the morning." Feng Bujue replied truthfully. "He and I both came for the interview, but he didn't get the chance to become a temporary postman."
"Oh?" Yang answered suspiciously. "Why?" He looked at Brother Jue up and down, and then asked, "Is it because you are a little more handsome than him?"
"No..." Feng Bujue shook his head and said, "Because he was a few minutes late and was shot dead by Director Nelson..."
"Well..." Upon hearing this, the shooter and Yang groaned at the same time, and two seconds later said in unison, "This is possible..."
"Damn! Who are you helping..." Feng Bujue thought to himself, "Is this town a re-employment center for retired killers... After hearing that someone was shot to death for being late, he actually showed a kind of 'I see'
The expression..."
"Wait a minute..." After a few seconds, the shooter seemed to remember something again, and he continued, "How do I know if you made this up? Maybe you came to our bar last night and heard about the man in the felt hat.
What the man said, now you are just using a pre-planned rhetoric to try to get away with it."
"That's right." Yang agreed, "How do you prove that the man was beaten to death by Nelson? How do you prove that you went to the post office in the morning?"
"Uh... that..." Feng Bujue tilted his head and glanced at his coat pocket, "If you two agree, I can take out a post office temporary work permit from my coat pocket and show it to you.
It has my name on it and Director Nelson's signature." He paused and added, "And in my wallet, there is a driver's license with my name on it and... a photo."
The shooter and Yang looked at each other, seeming to believe it. However... they still didn't put down their guns.
"Take out both." After a moment, the shooter looked at Brother Jue and said, "Move slowly...yes...that's it."
Feng Bujue followed the other party's instructions. He first took out his temporary work permit and slowly placed it on the bar. Then he took out his wallet from his pants pocket, turned to the page with his driver's license, and held it up.
In front of their eyes.
"Hahahaha..." At this time, the shooter suddenly laughed and put away the revolver in his hand as if nothing had happened. He stepped forward and gave Brother Jue a hug, "Oh! Man, I thought you were a CIA, hahaha
!”
Yang maintained his cold image and silently put the shotgun back under the bar: "It seems that the misunderstanding between us has been resolved."
"I have to buy you a drink, young man." The shooter's ferocious and old-fashioned temperament disappeared in an instant, as if he had a schizophrenia, and he instantly turned back into the amiable, warm and friendly uncle, "Yang, give it to me quickly.
Our friend poured a glass of wine to calm the panic."
Before he finished speaking, Yang pushed a glass of wine with ice cubes in front of Brother Jue, and within ten seconds, he prepared a glass of wine for himself and his boss.
"To our new postman." The shooter was the first to raise his cup.
"To the new postman." Yang also picked up the cup and answered calmly.
Looking at the two scorching eyes, Feng Bujue glared with dead eyes and picked up the wine glass: "Uh... thank you..."
The three of them picked up the wine glasses and drank it all in one gulp.
Feng Bujue is not a big drinker. He hates the feeling of the smell of alcoholic drinks dispersing in his throat. But... just because he doesn't like it doesn't mean he can't drink it.
After he finished drinking the glass of something, his expression was no different from that of drinking a glass of water: "Well... where were we talking about before?"
"As of now...no comment." Yang followed Brother Jue's words and said these four words coldly. Obviously, he still remembered the question Feng Bujue raised earlier...
"Okay." Feng Bujue would not ask for trouble. He had already inferred from the reactions of the two NPCs - unless they tell you themselves, it is best not to ask questions about their origins. "Let's talk about something else."
Okay, so what... are there a lot of fat people living in our town?"
"Haha..." The shooter showed a sly smile. He did not answer Brother Jue's question, but continued, "Listen, Dave, there is usually a price to pay for asking about things at the bar, do you understand?
"
"Oh~ I understand." Feng Bujue opened his wallet and took out a five-dollar bill, "These should..."
"That's not what I meant." Unexpectedly, the shooter pushed his money back, "What I want is not money."
"You don't want money...you want people?" Feng Bujue raised his eyes and gave the other party a strange look.
The shooter didn't pay attention to his reaction and just said to himself: "When you opened your wallet just now, I saw a membership card for a dart club."
"Huh?" Feng Bujue was stunned for half a second, then replied, "What do you mean..."
"There is a reason why people call me 'shooter'." The shooter continued, "Because I am very 'accurate' in whatever I play. Not just shooting with guns...including bows and arrows, slingshots, bowling, billiards, and...
Darts are all my strengths."
"So..." Feng Bujue tried to figure out what the other party meant, and then continued, "It's hard to find an opponent in this small town... You want to compete with me, a member of the dart club?"
"Haha..." the shooter replied with a smile, "one round, one question."
"Every time you lose a game, answer me a question?" Feng Bujue asked.
"That's right," the shooter replied.
"What if I lose?" Feng Bujue is very sensitive to details such as bets, and he will not agree to it haphazardly.
"If you lose ten rounds in total, keep your 'temporary work permit'," the shooter replied.
"Huh?" Feng Bujue thought, "What's the use of that? This certificate is only valid for one..."
"Of course I have my reasons." The shooter interrupted Jue Ge. Judging from his tone and demeanor, he seemed to know more about the documents than Jue Ge.
"Well..." Feng Bujue hesitated for a moment, "You have to tell me the specific rules first before I can decide..."
Hearing this, a smile appeared on the corner of the shooter's mouth, just like the expression of a fisherman when he sees a fish biting the hook: "Ah... okay..." (To be continued)
