Time-Out

Peach and I enjoy the scenery of this Huwaidensberg Street while waiting for the other group to finish their observation.

One group finally arrives, followed by the last group. Now, all that’s left is the professor.

It’s been over thirty minutes and the professor seems taking a bit longer.

Finally, his figure is seen in a far distance running towards us, like a happy grasshopper leaping off the leaves.

“Guys, great news, great news. Later tonight, we are going to experience the first-rated massage package and expensive dinner at the hotel courtesy of Mister Sullivan,” he excitingly says.

The others are thrilled, too. While I just massage my nose bridge from the bad news I gather, “Looks like that billionaire is buying us off, huh?” Peach says.

I laugh at her remark, “Looks like it!”

She clicks her tongue, “I don’t like him! I still like Jeff more,” then she pats me on my shoulder.

“Good luck getting away from that son of a wealthy man,” I laugh aloud. Peach’s side comments are