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Vic retrieved a can of Coke from the vending machine slot.
"Milk tea without tea or milk" is just sugar water, right? So, good old-fashioned liquid sugar and caffeine should fit the bill perfectly.
Vic felt like a goddamn genius.
"Mr. Black. I believe this is our second meeting."
A cool, elegant voice drifted over.
Vic looked up to see Wednesday's mother, Morticia Addams, gliding toward him. Her long, dark dress looked like solidified midnight.
Behind her trailed an expressionless Wednesday, a Gomez who was excitedly rubbing his hands together, and Pugsley, who was clutching a severed hand.
"Whoa!" Vic immediately plastered on his trademark brilliant, slightly exaggerated smile.
"Mrs. Addams! You are as breathtaking as ever. Like a black rose blooming in the depths of a mausoleum!"
Morticia pursed her lips in a faint smile, a trace of genuine amusement flitting across her pale face.
"Such a silver tongue on this child. No wonder Wednesday has taken a liking to you."
She elegantly extended a gloved right hand.
Vic was just about to bow for a kiss on the hand when he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.
Behind Morticia, Wednesday was staring at him with eyes like deep, freezing pools. Her gaze suggested that if he dared to plant his lips on that glove, he would find himself on her autopsy table within seconds.
Vic blinked, laughing internally.
No way. She's jealous of her own mother? This possessiveness... is actually kind of cute.
He immediately shifted gears, opting instead to lightly, and with extreme politeness, shake the tips of Morticia's fingers.
"The honor is mine, Mrs. Addams."
Morticia glanced at her daughter, who was practically radiating liquid nitrogen, and smiled knowingly.
"Heh. Wednesday has been this way since she was small. Very territorial. That is why I must admit, I am surprised my daughter is willing to... share you with another girl."
Her tone was soft, but it struck Vic like a bolt of lightning.
BOOM—!
The smile on Vic's face froze instantly. Sirens blared in his brain:
[EMERGENCY!]
[Subject caught red-handed two-timing by the girlfriend's parent!]
[Searching for countermeasures... No reliable data found!]
[Suggestion: Spontaneous combustion or initiate time travel!]
"Uh... well... I..."
Vic's language center malfunctioned. His eyes darted around, cold sweat threatening to drip from his forehead.
Morticia seemed to ignore his distress, continuing in her operatic, airy tone.
"But it matters not. I have never interfered with Wednesday's life choices."
Behind her, Wednesday let out a very soft, very cold scoff.
"Vic."
Morticia's tone grew slightly more serious.
"Thank you for saving Wednesday so many times. At the Harvest Festival, at the Meeting House... When Wednesday's psychic visions awakened, I knew this day would come. The Addams raven will always attract the gaze of vultures."
Vic shot a sharp look at Wednesday, his eyes broadcasting a clear message:
Honey, is the house bugged? How does your mom know everything?!
Wednesday frowned imperceptibly, replying with her eyes:
Obviously. And the 'bug' is high-level.
Their gazes slowly lowered in unison, locking onto a small thing on the ground that was currently trying to tiptoe away on its pinky finger.
Thing.
Morticia bent down gracefully, scooped up the appendage—which was now playing dead—and gently stroked the back of its hand.
"Do not blame him. As a mother, one must know of her daughter's safety. Especially when one knows her daughter is a conspicuous raven, not a harmless dove."
Thing nuzzled her palm ingratiatingly, not daring to look at Vic or Wednesday.
"So..."
Morticia looked up, fixing her gaze on Vic again. The corner of her mouth hooked into a gentle smile that made Vic's scalp tingle.
"When do you plan to... with Wednesday..."
Hearing this familiar, catastrophic sentence structure, Vic's brain short-circuited. The terror dominated by Esther Sinclair moments ago came rushing back. Survival instinct took over, and he blurted out the rest of the sentence before she could finish:
"We plan to have kids right after marriage! Don't worry, Ma'am! I have plenty of formula money! They won't go hungry!"
Snap—
It felt as though an invisible layer of ice had instantly frozen the air.
The eternally proper smile on Morticia's face froze.
Gomez let out an excited "Whoa!" and almost jumped, only to be pinned in place by a single glance from his wife.
Pugsley tilted his head in confusion.
And Wednesday, usually calm as a corpse, wore a rare look of shock. A very faint, suspicious flush appeared on her pale cheeks.
She subconsciously took a half-step back, her eyes screaming, "Have you lost your mind?!"
Even Venom couldn't help but roast him from within:
"Vic! Did you drink the failed potions from the toilet today?! Where is your brain?! Did chocolate clog your arteries?!"
"Ahem!" Morticia recovered first. She coughed lightly to mask her loss of composure, returning to her elegant, mysterious self, though her tone was a bit... nuanced.
"V-Vic... I meant to ask when you would have time to visit Addams Manor with Wednesday..."
"Furthermore, while the Addams family welcomes new members... regarding the matter of children... I believe there is no need to be quite so... hasty."
Vic finally realized what he had said. He wished he could ask Venom to wrap him in a cocoon and bury him three thousand meters underground immediately.
"Uh... I meant... long-term! Yes! Long-term planning! Sustainable development! The excellent Addams genes need... uh... preservation!"
He tried to salvage it, but his words were fragmented nonsense.
Morticia looked at him with an extremely complex expression—a mix of pity ("This child is hopeless") and amazement ("My daughter has unique taste").
"I... I believe I need to speak with Principal Weems regarding a donation to the Academy."
She finally turned gracefully, her skirt creating a perfect arc as she practically fled from this son-in-law with the overly erratic thought process.
Gomez winked at Vic, gave him a "Go get 'em, tiger" gesture, and was promptly dragged away by his wife.
Pugsley followed, looking back every three steps.
Wednesday remained. Her dark eyes were fixed on Vic, a gaze cold enough to solidify magma.
"Victor Black."
Her voice was three degrees colder than a Siberian winter.
"I believe we need to talk. Regarding your 'long-term planning,' and whether your tongue is still required inside your mouth."
Vic: "!!!"
Venom: "We're done for. Get ready to run, buddy. Or maybe I should just digest you now; it might be less painful than falling into her hands."
Vic clutched his can of Coke, stepping back one pace at a time as Wednesday approached, her killing intent practically visible.
"H-Honey... let me explain... it was a conditioned reflex! Yes! It was all Enid's mom's fault..."
Just as Vic was about to make his case, he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around his neck. Enid's soft body pressed against his back, her sweet voice laced with ice:
"Vic, honey~"
Her breath tickled his ear. Her werewolf claws brushed dangerously close to the artery in his neck.
"Can we have a nice little chat... about the specific 'plans' regarding 'wolf pups' and 'formula money'?"
The Gothic Reaper in front. The Werewolf Sweetheart behind.
Vic felt like a chocolate cookie trapped between a slab of black marble and a furry bear trap—about to be crushed or shredded.
"VENOM!!!" Vic screamed internally, his soul tearing apart.
"Brother! Help me! Strategic retreat! Or anything! DO SOMETHING!"
Dead silence in his mind.
Two seconds later, Venom's raspy voice echoed slowly, carrying a lazy tone of not-my-problem and perhaps a hint of schadenfreude.
"Oh, pal... theoretically, one of us has to survive, right? I feel like my odds are better."
He paused, adding sincerely, "So, good luck, Vic. I'll miss you... and the chocolate you promised but haven't delivered yet."
"VENOM! You treacherous, cowardly, symbiotic traitor!!!" Vic roared in despair.
He was cornered in both the physical and mental worlds.
Cold sweat poured down Vic's forehead. His brain spun faster than ever before, trying to find a sliver of hope under the wrath of his two girlfriends.
Negotiate? Wednesday might just strike first.
Act cute? Enid's claws just tightened a little.
Play dead? They might start discussing autopsy and taxidermy techniques right there.
It was over. It was completely over.
Vic closed his eyes and sent out the most devout, desperate prayer of his life:
God! Lucifer! Merlin! Dracula! Whoever! Any god or demon will do! Someone save me! Any form of distraction! Anything! I'll trade a year of Venom's chocolate quota for it!
As if answering his desperate call from the abyss—
"Vic~ I missed you so much!"
(Guess who is about to make an entrance?)