Chapter 721: I am a little panicked about this pet...

Amy looked at McGonagall in a hurry. How could his father say this? If Irina is not happy, what can I do?
Irina’s eyes are a bit of a playful taste, and the smile reveals a dangerous atmosphere.
McGonagall felt a chilly breath coming to himself, and wanted to give himself a big mouth. He jumped into such a pit and smiled. "No, I am not dissatisfied with the princess. But it is so good to Amy, I am naturally very happy. I am dissatisfied with myself, let the princess work with Amy, and I am a big man holding an ugly duckling."
"Really?" Irina looked at McGonagall's eyes.
"Of course." McGonagall nodded, his eyes fixed, not half-shake.
"Alex never lie to me, although I feel that he has changed a bit, but it should still not lie to me." Irina regained her gaze and walked in the direction of the alley with Amy. Eat, I am hungry."
"Call..." Magsson breathed a sigh of relief and felt that he had taken his foot back from the ghost gate.
"Come on, father!" Amy said silently to McGonagall, holding a small fist to encourage him.
McGonagall nodded, cleaned up his mood, and hugged the ugly duckling to catch up. Even if he wanted to shape the image of his father's stalwart in front of Amy, he would never be embarrassed!
Out of the alley, a bustling wide street appeared in front of the three.
On both sides of the street are two- or three-storey European-style buildings with gray-yellow tones, domed stone columns, and simple line style, while a restaurant is located on both sides of the street.
There are also small stalls along the street next to the street. The chefs from all over the world show their talents. The bustling crowds walk through stalls and restaurants, which is very lively.
The air is dotted with a variety of delicious flavors, like a gastronomic river.

It’s not weaker than the modern commercial food street.
McGonagall looked at the bustling crowd and couldn’t help but admire in his heart.
However, guests who hang around the street stalls are significantly different from those who enter and decorate the upscale restaurants.
The guests on the street stalls are obviously too shabby to dress up. It seems that they are ordinary civilians, and they rarely see gorgeous people.
The guests who come in and out of the restaurant are mostly dressed in gorgeous costumes and can be described as distinct.
The positioning of the restaurant determines the crowd of guests. There is not much resentment and cynical thought about this point. After all, the threshold for eating in the restaurant is definitely higher than that of the street restaurant.
However, almost all the streets are like this, and even the blatantly affixed to the entrance of the restaurant prohibits civilians from entering, or makes his brow wrinkle.
The political system of the Los empire was similar to that of the Middle Ages in England, but after the establishment of the Los empire, the king of the Los empire practiced a centralized policy. The nobility enjoyed the right to use the territory but had no ownership. This is similar to the Sui and Tang Dynasties in China. National system.
This approach gives the King a high concentration of rights, the right to co-ordinate the entire empire, and the ability to ensure that his policies and orders are executed flawlessly.
However, the problems of the feudal system are almost the same. Although the aristocrats do not have the ownership of the land, they are still the upper class of the Los Angeles Empire. They have many privileges and there is no such thing as equality between the civilians.
The blatant prohibition of civilians at the entrance of the restaurant is only a corner of the feudal empire. In the eyes of the nobility, the civilians are only inferior and can be killed and killed.
"This kind of signboard should be torn off and put on the boss's face to make people feel uncomfortable." McGonagall looked at a prominent notice attached to the door of the Karui barbecue shop and shook his fist.
Compared to the city, he really prefers the city of chaos, at least that makes people feel the hope of equality.
"What to eat?" Irina looked at Meg and asked.
"I think..." McGonagall regained his gaze and looked at it seriously.
"Just in this rotisserie." Irina took Amy and walked to the rotisserie next to it.
"..." McGonagall looked at Irina's back. This woman didn't need his answer at all. She walked two steps and followed the notice hanging on the door and shrugged: "I am a civilian, not a nobleman." ""
"Although I hate the name of the nobility, but as long as you stand by me, then you are very expensive." Irina stopped and looked at McGonagall.
"This feeling of being fostered... really cool!" McGonagall raised his eyebrows and his eyes gradually widened.
Struggling to refrain from the urge to eat soft rice, McGonagall shook his head firmly. "I don't want to be a nobleman, but my restaurant should be more expensive than them, but I never limit who comes to eat."
"Stab."
Irina stared at McGonagall for a moment, then reached out and pulled the notice on the door and threw it aside. "Is it alright now?"
"I am a little panicked by this pet..." McGonagall glanced at the notice on the ground, and then looked at Irina, who was frank, and didn't know what to say.
Irina tears off the notice at the door of the Kerry barbecue shop, and it has attracted many people's attention.
The beautiful and holy Irina is amazing, and the half-elf girl she is holding in her arms is cute and lovely, just like a pair of jade people, standing there, people can't move their eyes.
And everyone followed Irina and the little elf girl's gaze, looking at the ugly duckling standing on the side of McGonagall, his eyes suddenly became a bit strange.
"At first glance, it was a little white face that stepped on the dog, a big man, holding a kitten!"
"That is, look at the little girl who is much longer and more lovely. If he is not looking for a beautiful wife, is he born?"
"Yeah, how much a flower, inserted in the cow dung!"
McGonagall listened to those sour words, the mood is a bit cool, just like the past life watching the black powder in his microblogging brush: ‘If there is a good, you count which onion! ‘‘Whether it’s because of the good technique of reincarnation, which net red can see you! ‘‘If not...’
I really miss it when I think about it.
He likes this kind of person who sees him unhappy, but he still has to look at it, sour and envious.
How to blame him for giving birth to a door.
See how good his craft, cast twice, are on the sign.
No solution.
"Who is so bold, dare to tear up the notice of my Carre rotisserie?" At this moment, a full-fledged voice sounded, a tall and strong man dressed in a white chef’s suit rushed out the door with a kitchen knife. .