The Command Center was one of those places where, as long as there wasn't a city-wide or multi-regional major case, it was basically a cushy, technical job staring at big screens and dispatching police forces. It was a retirement gig.
"So, our Captain Huntington won't have to be jumping off buildings anymore."
Simon's voice was laced with sarcasm. "He'll be holding a cup of coffee, calling the shots from in front of a giant screen. How impressive. If a robbery or murder happens, you can just lean back in your chair, mutter 'stay safe' into the microphone, and then clock out and go home to your kid."
His words were actually quite harsh.
For any SWAT officer who had risked their life on the front lines, such mockery was tantamount to calling them washed up.
But for the current Rhys, a few jabs wouldn't hurt him.
So he remained unfazed and accepted the taunt. "Yeah, sounds good."
Seeing that Rhys wouldn't take the bait, Simon found it boring and turned to tease Felix.
"Felix, look, your daddy is giving up his gun for you. If someone bullies you in the future, he can't just swoop down from the sky in his uniform to save you. He's just a desk jockey now."
With his mouth full of chestnut cake, Felix heard Simon badmouthing the father he had just found and retorted very seriously, "He doesn't have to swoop down from the sky. We have a car, don't we? Daddy can just drive over."
Simon burst out laughing. "Not only a car, your great-grandpa has a private jet. If things get really urgent, he can fly the jet to pick you up from school."
Felix's eyes widened, and he forgot all about the cake in his hand.
"Great-grandpa?" He turned to Rhys, his face full of curiosity. "Daddy, does great-grandpa really have a jet?"
Rhys, listening from the side, felt a little helpless.
The Huntington family did indeed have one. His grandfather and Aunt Mia used it for travel, but he had hardly ever set foot in it. To him, that jet was less useful than his Jeep Wrangler.
Besides, he had no intention of introducing Felix to the Huntington family.
But seeing his son's expectant face, he still patted Felix's head and placated him, "He does. If there's a chance in the future, I'll take you to see it."
Felix pressed on, "Is great-grandpa super powerful?"
Rhys paused.
The old man lying in the hospital, kept alive by a ventilator, had once been a formidable figure. But now, he was just a frail man in his twilight years, who could breathe his last at any moment.
"Yes, he's very powerful," Rhys said in a low voice.
Felix bounced on the sofa with excitement.
Clara paid no attention to this. She placed the application on the table, neither approving nor disapproving, and skipped the topic entirely, suddenly asking, "Are those friends of yours close with Margot?"
The laughter and chatter in the living room died down.

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