"..." Charles Mcintosh stayed silent, with no change in his facial expression.
Jasmine Yale really didn't understand. Was it the same for Sylvan Cheney and Charles Mcintosh, two wooden-headed men who were together every day?
For a good while, Charles Mcintosh didn't concede.
With no choice left, Jasmine Yale had to get in the car.
Upon seeing Jasmine Yale getting into the car, Charles Mcintosh finally sat in the driver's seat.
He tossed his coat to Jasmine Yale in the back seat and said indifferently, "Miss Yale, put it on. I can't afford to take the blame if you catch a cold."
There was no point in arguing with such a stubborn person.
Jasmine Yale had no choice but to comply, draping the coat on herself.
Satisfied, Charles Mcintosh started the car.
She turned her head to look out the window.
The sunset had completely set, the evening wind was harsh, making a rustling sound.
This place, deserted and uninhabited, was extremely frightful.
