After preparing the last fish for slippery fish slices, Shiller moved to the temporary stove set up by Nick to prepare the seasoning for the dishes. Meanwhile, Thor purposefully strode over, skidding to a halt before the stove, his brow furrowed as he looked at Shiller with a serious expression.
"What's up, Thor?" Shiller looked up at him.
"Um …" Thor trailed off, his expression relaxing as he rubbed his nose and said, "Well, I just wanted to mention, you know Loki and Sif have some disagreements, and Loki also had a bit of conflict with Hela, so, you know …"
Shiller nodded slightly, indicating he was listening. Thor hemmed and hawed for a while before finally saying, "I know they are not the type to backbite others, especially Sif. She has never hesitated to confront Loki directly."
"Of course, Loki was a bit foul in the past, she messed up Sif's hair, and deservedly got beat up by her. And that time with Hela… her behavior towards Hela was unfair, and they had the right to be upset."
Thor's words seemed jumbled, as if his recently improved English mastery had regressed, interspersed with occasional Old English and Asgardian phrases, as if he was struggling to make his blunt words sound more eloquent.
"Of course." Shiller replied, brushing oil in the pan while speaking. "Everyone's views on others are influenced by their own likes and dislikes, inevitably leading to unbalanced judgments. But I believe the Asgard royal family aren't narrow-minded. You all have a distinctive charm in your candid and direct personalities, and I, of course, would like to bear some blunt words for this charm."
Thor can't figure out how someone could express themselves so eloquently and politely, but he miraculously understood Shiller's implication which if put in his own words, would be 'I don't care what anyone says because I find you simple-hearted brutes endearing.'
"Er, no, what I mean is that I think your views on Loki are quite good. That's it, you don't need to change them."
Thor scratched his head to articulate his thoughts, believing Shiller would understand.
Whether or not Shiller understood, at least he acted as if he did. He nodded, smiled, and told Thor, "I always stick to my own judgments and perspectives, and I don't absorb opinions that are biased. You don't need to worry about that."
"The kebabs are ready," Nick, dusting off the charcoal ash from his hands, said, having just tested grilling a couple of skewers. "The charcoal fire's timing is perfect, some of the dishes that need to be served hot can be started now."
Shiller nodded, wiped his hands with a towel, and then focused on cooking, while Thor mumbled something under his breath, still seeming somewhat worried.
Two tables were set up under the marquee in front of the tent, joined together, and soon plates of food started filling them.
The main course was charcoal-grilled steak, still slightly rare with the grill marks clearly visible. Followed by a big pot of Russian soup that had been simmering over the fire for a long time, filled with abundant vegetables. The tomato base gave off a rich salty-sweet aroma that wafted with the wind.
Gwen's favorite unhealthy fried foods followed - fried chicken, fish and potatoes. The assorted snacks were served on a large pristine white porcelain plate, looking visually and aromatically appealing.
Then came pasta with tomato sauce, grilled fish seasoned with coarse salt, grilled fish head with cream cheese, and stir-fried raw squid.
There were also Chinese dishes made by Shiller, like smooth and flavorful slippery fish slices, stir-fried squid, fresh fish soup, and even fish head pancakes.
Nick moved the grill near the dining table. This made it convenient to barbecue skewers while eating. The skewers came in several flavors: super spicy marinated in Mexican hot sauce, original flavor marinated in black pepper, and sweet and sour dressed in lemon juice and sweet custard sauce, catering to different tastes.
The people at the center of the campsite began to gather, calling back others who weren't there. Steve hung a string of connected lights on the central pole of the marquee, brightening the area.
The ladies raced out from their rooms like a gust of wind, Gwen Spiderman, in particular, was extraordinarily agile. She dashed to the dining table and sniffed the dishes like a hungry cub.
"Be careful not to let your hair fall into the food," said Shiller while serving the plates.
"I would get a premonition if it were about to happen." Gwen dashed to the other side of the table, quickly snapping pictures with her phone before encouraging others to come over for a group photo.
A lively character is always needed to enliven the atmosphere at a party, and Gwen Spiderman was the perfect energizer.
She quickly asked everyone what foods they preferred, arranged their seating, ran back to get napkins for everyone, took photos of each person with their proudest culinary creation, grouped everyone for a big photo, and bustled among the crowd like an excited dog. If she had a tail, it would have been wagging so fast it would be a blur.
"Calm down a bit, miss," said Shiller, sounding a bit helpless, as he pointed to a vacant seat. "Sit down and eat."
Gwen Spiderman reluctantly put down her phone and said, "I want all the Spidermen in the universe to know I'm dining with you guys. I've just broadcast to Universe 72."
"I believe if you don't put your phone down right now, the spelling errors in your thesis will spread even further."
"Goodness, don't do this, Dean Shiller, you're making me consider transferring to Principal Charles."
As night fell and it turned completely dark, Nick started recounting tales of the Roaring Assault Squad. The wartime memories didn't last long in the atmosphere, however, as Gwen Spiderman's infectious laughter broke up the somber undertones, illuminating the darkest point of nightfall.
Ivan, sipping his vodka, began to reminisce about his time at Lake Baikal. The conversation naturally drifted to the former Soviet Union, and inevitably, Natasha's birthplace. The woman agent raised her glass and began to talk more, sharing fragmented memories of the birch forest and Red Room from her dreams.
This wasn't any extravagant banquet. The smell of the barbecue mixed with the damp nighttime air took you back to the smoldering fireplace. Ultimately, most people ended up so drunk they wanted to grab the moon and pocket it.
As Shiller, still sober, carried each of them back to their rooms one by one, he found actual happiness – a strong, lively happiness that made his heart beat more powerfully – in this too-common, even slightly vulgar daily life.
This happiness continued until Natasha appeared at his door.