Chapter 35 - Owner of the Golden Card
Sabot’s rage instantly lowered the temperature around him.
Tom Weasel, however, only gave Sabot a nonchalant glance and regained his exaggerated tone. “Neehahaha. Here’s a friendly reminder from Weasel. The rule of Barbie’s Restaurant: a card owner can enter, and a card owner can bring a number of guests, depending on the card’s rank.
“Those without a card, please return with one next time.” Tom Weasel made a “please go away” gesture towards Sabot.
Sabot was about to burst in rage.
Tom Weasel grinned wide again, but those squinted eyes contained malevolence this time.
“If you have a question about the restaurant rules, please submit a complaint to the manager on duty. Today’s manager is Greasy Bird Neo. Shall I call that roasted chicken here?”
Greasy Bird Neo? Sabot never heard of that name.
Weasel did not intend to hide at all, or rather, he did not find it necessary to hide the truth. Barbie’s Restaurant always gave their best treatment towards the owner of a golden card.
Under everyone’s gaze, wearing his signature laughter and peg-top ballet spin, Tom Weasel made a great leap from the restaurant door, left a white trail in the air, and landed on the deck of The Redbud without causing the tiniest bit of dust.
He took out his microphone again from some unknown place. He also took out a gentleman’s top hat this time.
While walking his splay-feet steps, he put on the hat. His tattered clothes also became cleaner with each of his steps. When he finally stopped in front of a surprised young man, Tom Weasel was wearing a completely different look. The mad, shaggy creature had turned into a passionate, gracefully dressed gentleman wearing clean, glossy hair.
The same idea reached every supernatural’s mind: he still looked the same creature, but he was giving out a totally different aura now.
The brand-new Tom Weasel stopped himself in front of the young man and performed a complicated, yet melodious invitation etiquette.
“Neehahaha! Dear honorable golden card owner, welcome to Barbie’s Restaurant. I’m your personal receptionist today, Tom Weasel Eel. You can call me Eel.”
The simple words were filled with politeness and good manner. It was completely from the mouth a nobleman’s servant if one did not mind the signature laughter.
The other supernaturals nearby stared their eyes wide. They thought Tom Weasel was his real name. Was he hiding his true name because he was not being polite to them?
Sabot’s expression turned dark again.
However, he realized that Tom Weasel did not even use his real name in front of Sunders. Maybe it was not so important after all.
At least they knew Tom’s name now.
The young man on the receiving end of Tom Weasel’s etiquette, on the other hand, was at a complete loss.