The gangster followed Ethan Fang so closely that the hair on the back of his head was almost scratched off.
There was nothing he could do. He was worried and suspected that the gold nugget was sick.
I've been saying this to a rooster all the way, you must be sick.
"Hey, are you okay?" The little R@sc@l couldn't help but ask, "What were you whispering to it along the way? Can it understand you?"
Ethan Fang rubbed the little cockscomb that was hit here with a pained look, and didn't intend to respond directly, "Nothing."
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