"What’s there to worry about? If you’re not here interrupting me, I’d probably be done in two minutes."
As Cyrus said this, his hands were flying over the keyboard at a surprising speed. It left Jordan, who prided himself on his fast typing, quite shocked.
"Cyrus, with such a fast tempo, it would be a waste to just use it on the computer. Why don’t you pick up playing the drums with your uncle? I swear I’ll make sure you get up on stage at least once a week."
"Hmph..." Cyrus snorted disdainfully.
"Uncle, my mom would rather I work on my computer than play the drums."
Jordan felt a bit awkward. He had come in here intending to comfort Cyrus if he was upset, but it seemed that was unnecessary.
Now, all the comforting words he had prepared were going to waste.
"Alright, Uncle, stop hovering around. I can deal with this myself. If something can’t be resolved with words, then action should be taken."
Cyrus lifted his head from the computer screen, glanced at a clueless Jordan, and spoke quietly.
Jordan nodded approvingly, and patted Cyrus on the shoulder in an old-father manner.
"The kid has potential, you’ve reassured me. But your mom seemed a bit off earlier, remember to make some effort to comfort her at dinner. No woman can resist a little pampering, if she still can’t be comforted, that only means..."
"It means your ’pampering’ is a knock-off," Cyrus finished for him, hitting the last key of a line of code.
Jordan paused, then burst out laughing.
"You little punk, daring to tease your uncle."
"Look..." Cyrus didn’t say much more, simply sliding his laptop in front of Jordan who was startled after a glance.
"Damn, you’re so quick. The PR personnel at Justin Battleson’s company wouldn’t be able to match your speed."
Indeed, not a trace of the news about Evelyn Curtis and Justin Battleson could be found online now. Even any unfavorable remarks on Charlotte had been erased thoroughly.
Cyrus also kindly pushed the second trending topic to the top, which touched Jordan.
"Well done, I’m proud of you."
Cyrus remained silent, just taking back his laptop.
His nice black eyes twinkled at the mention of the name Justin Battleson.
"Alright, Uncle, we both know of my big brother’s skills. Stop acting like an old man—come play games with me. I’ve died so many times that I’m going to drop rank soon."
Hank Thompson stuck his head into their conversation with an unhappy look. He grabbed Jordan’s hand, seemingly intent on dragging him out of the room.
He’d just spent a significant amount of time comforting his younger siblings who were upset by the news, and his hands were itching to play a game. For original chapters go to novel⁂fire.net
However, the more he played, the more he lost. If this continued, he was afraid his game rank would depreciate horribly.
Jordan patted Hank’s head, and after one more glance at the unperturbed Cyrus, followed Hank out of the room calmly.
"You little guy, still in the mood to play games."
Jordan couldn’t help admiring Hank’s positive attitude.
Hank cheerfully switched on the gaming console and replied carelessly,
"What’s the big deal? It’s just a piece of junk news. Big brother can handle it in minutes. It’s nothing but media hype—if I let that upset me, what’s the point? Enough talking, Uncle. Help me out here, I plan to switch up my character today."
Jordan’s ears filled with Hank’s excited voice that grew louder, yet his mind wandered off, far away.