Carlos and David - Phenomenology back
Carlos is sure that the fault is his.
The kid screaming on the front seat, and the guy next in line to vomit into the bag that the airline. Granny disgusted shaking his dismal range of black lace.
his fault.
has stationed in the shower for almost an hour before leaving, and was smeared on the skin liters of aftershave. He carefully wiped the shirts, pants has led to the laundry.
not helped.
That nauseating stench of onions still yet to hear him, as if the pestilential air of the Mexican village had penetrated into the pores by changing the composition of the same cells. As if Santa María gli avesse tessuto attorno una specie di inquietante maledizione, come se la razionalità si fosse involuta in qualcosa di oscuro e subdolo.
Qualcosa di fatale.
Non ha senso.
O forse ne ha fin troppo, invece: forse è esattamente quello, il punto di rottura verso cui Hamilton intendeva spingerlo quando l'ha costretto ad esiliarsi laggiù. Forse serviva proprio la minaccia di leggendarie cimici a togliergli quel poco di sonno su cui ancora poteva contare - forse il bastardo sapeva bene che in Messico la luna è così tanto più grande. Che ulula nella notte come un animale ferito, che certi luoghi sono entità viventi. Wicked nightmares.
Carlos is confused.
But remember that years ago when his grandmother gave him the papers, under the painting of a Madonna and seven swords stuck in the heart, the thrill he felt along the back was cold in the same way - in the same manner froze the sweat on his forehead. Petrified muscles.
Hamilton.
The Lady with the seven swords had the look of demonic Hamilton, dreams, and Vivian laughed at his feet. And his grandmother was tearing her hair, sprinkled pinches of salt in the corners of the room. And Vivian laughed again, and Hamilton's eyes narrowed. And he did not breathe.
not breathe.
Fuck.
When he woke up there was the usual smell sticky onion, air, and cries came from the alley below and shouting of drunks.
Carlos got up from bed, then - out the window at the moon floating on the horizon as the white eye of a corpse and some bitch made him nod off, from below.
On the floor, a bug across the beam of light that filtered through the glass - he closed his eyes. She felt wet drops down along the temple.
was sweaty.
was sweating from the alley and the smell of onions mingled with the more pungent jasmine and almost seemed possible to make out there on the street, Vivian - the moon's reflection on the hair.
hands of those drunks narrow hips, narrow wrists.
His laugh.
I like how I look, what they think, what I want to do that laugh ...
pounding in the brain as a chant satanic - there was no way to silence it. There was no antidote.
I like the way I touch. As I fuck ...
Then again, in a whisper: What , turns you on?
Another look, the harder. Nausea
other hand - the other odors.
lucky that I was the one with a passion for fucking in the processes ...
Pressing the fingers at the base of the nose, Carlos opened his eyes.
Look at the white ceiling of the plane, above him - see the monitor turns off. The stewardess leans over to invite him to fasten his seat belt - the hair on his shoulders. The valley of Rosenfield, oblivion.
is at home. Breathe.
At home, finally.
Or maybe not ....
moves a step forward, uncertain - glances around. Serra
his fist on the shoulder of the case - someone pushes forward. Someone else's hits the shoulder, without looking back. A metallic voice, the speakers, call to check in passengers traveling to New York.
not at home - is not no place, evidently. Why
missing the relief of back, and lacks the feeling of familiarity that only the city you live in can give you. Lack the will to revise the streets to find people. To meet again himself. And Vivian
missing, mostly. Admit it, now, does not even get so scared.
For the first time, crossing the perimeter of the campus, finds himself wondering what is really the way to that place to sleep, waking up every day and attend classes. And then to eat in a hurry to rush to work. To be sent again somewhere. To do something.
process - remember - the great opportunities of a prestigious law firm.
The future that you have chosen.
It's all too far.
He just wants to sleep at the time - fall into a deep sleep and for once not to notice the color of night falls or who have the stars. Stop fighting and let go of everything. Relying
the suitcase on the floor, turning the key in the lock of the door.
Raven is lying on the bed - note, entering. Her hair is loose - the jeans fell on the flanks. Dark skin, olive skin so different from the Mexicans. So much more at night - the most mysterious.
is strange.
For a moment, crossing his eyes to Carlos seems to see him now for the first time. Or maybe she never really looked before - not with that tired abysmal.
He could always count on its own strength, to contrast with that of his friend.
Now it's like staring at the sun without screens instead. Like being blind.
"Hello."
instinctively looks away - throws the suitcase on the chair.
pulling off his jacket, gets out of the pockets cigarettes and matches.
"I've been waiting for. How was the flight? "
" Good. "
Silence.
"No particular turbulence," feels compelled to add, approaching the corner of the kitchen without conviction.
could perhaps prepare a coffee, currency, if the mind is able to process in a practical way any intention. The truth is that reappropriation of space seems to have become impossible - even Raven must have sensed his discomfort.
"Are you sure? You have not looked very relaxed ... "it notes, inhale deeply and Carlos.
It brings the cigarette to her lips, opens the box of matches.
changes his mind soon after.
to drop the packet on the table, pushes him away with an abrupt gesture.
"I'm not rested, already, "his friend answered, without looking. But could not find the strength, without even trying for this irritation. He feels
move behind it - the bed creaks just reporting a change of position.
"Santa María was the hell did you expect, I suppose," comes the question, but he shakes his head.
"It is not even concerned about this," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "It's just that there was no real reason why Hamilton should send me there. And I can not get rid of that smell of onions, adds, suddenly pulling off the shirt. Throwing the chair, to cover the bag. "I hardly slept a wink for a week ..."
"You want me to leave the room?"
Raven's voice is cautious now - just lower.
"I can go to study in the library, if you want to try to recover a few hours of sleep ..."
"No," but he answered, almost without thinking. "It is not necessary, do not ..."
Pause.
"Do not disturb me, tranquil," ends, throwing a glance. Discovering it sitting cross-legged on the bed, his head perfectly smooth. Loose shoulders - just curled against the background of the wall. Wrapped in a cast of black hair.
Building, Carlos clears his throat.
He had not realized how much he had missed the constant presence of Raven, Mexico - the confidence that even draws the lines of his body, composed and calm so deep that makes each of his eyes. What makes his voice so firm - so peaceful.
He struggled many times in the past, seemingly impervious to tolerate the peace with which his friend seems to be able to tackle anything, yet he wanted to beside it, in Santa Maria, to be able to reconstruct the reality in perspective. To hear him breathe in the next bed when the moon became huge and exotic smells too - too strange. Hamilton's voice too much metal inside the handset.
Wearily back to look away - it gets wet lips.
Inhale, slowly, trying to penetrate into the air from the lungs.
"He's trying to cut me out of the process," he murmurs, and across the room immediately Raven straightens his back - in more detail.
"Are you sure?" Question.
"There are only five days opening of the first hearing and I have not had a hand in any of his papers, Raven. I have not read even his harangue damn, you know? Nothing. "
" you would not, however, the stomach, "said the other, with a grimace. "If you take out only makes you a favor. From every point of view. "
" Shit! I can not understand what the hell has in mind! "
Grabbing the pack of cigarettes, Carlos if he fits one of the lips.
"There is no need to go away, no one would prevent him from how and when he wants to quit. To take another server at any time. It makes no sense! Is burdened alone the entire body of work ... for what? "
Hesitating, Raven him a look.
"With Megan you close it?"
"Fuck, Raven!" He blurts out, blowing the smoke away. "Of course I closed, it is natural! Megan got to do that now? "
" No, sure. "The other shrugged. "Only if you suspect that Hamilton brought his wife in bed might not be too happy ..."
"All the more reason to fire me in the trunk, do not you think? It may take against the entire environment if you would - his father has enough influence to ruin my career. But the weight of foot binding to a server that does not allow you to work against his own interest, "says Carlos, absorbed. "I mean come on, is simply suicidal ..."
tired, she let slip on the mattress, then - white square in the eyes fixed on the ceiling.
lifting the arms - the snaps behind his head slowly.
"The point is that he does not care enough about me to risk to play for the process, and if you want to know I'm convinced he does not care enough to even his wife ..."
"As to that, I have no doubt."
"Because he is so important to keep an eye on, then?" Meditates Carlos, almost to himself. "For those who ?"
But the other does not respond immediately, and that question remains hanging in the air long enough to charge the most disturbing suggestions. More sinister.
there something back in that business - the knobs are too irregular joints. The complete design effort to take shape.
There is no consistent logic - rational.
"The Mexico has made you even more paranoid, it seems, "says Raven finally, holding a smile. "Seriously, Herrera. The most that can happen is that you resign, you said it, too. "
" Yeah ... "is the answer, a little 'hoarse. Tired, maybe.
course, unconvinced. But while
Raven back to browse his book Carlos is lying there, absorbed, and does not move even when the phone rang on the bedside table feels. When the other reached out, stepping over to retrieve the phone. When he speaks.
When the crosses again to return to place the apparatus on the mobile.
"Raven?"
Turning his head, his friend glances.
"When I was little my grandmother had a picture hanging on the wall ..." he whispered, slowly.
"Your grandmother that the catechism?"
"Yes. It was a painting of the Madonna holding a heart, "he says softly. "A true heart, you know? With lots of arteries and blood. And in the heart were embedded seven sharp arrows ... "
" God! "The friend exclaims, waving his hand. "Every time I talk about this woman understand a bit 'more like you did at your age to get so messed up ... "
" The point is that I dreamed almost every night, in Mexico, " ; Carlos continues without badargli. Without changing the tone, either - like a strange chant.
At his side, Raven raised an eyebrow.
"Carlos. What are you trying to say? "
Silence.
"In the dream, Our Lady Hamilton's eyes," he finally mutters, almost in a whisper. "It was staring at me - just stared at me. All the while, as if to damn. But the more chilling ... "
takes breath with caution.
"What is most frightening is that there was Vivian, in that picture," she whispers. "He was standing in the shadows as if the enveloping cloak of the Virgin Mary in a single black spot, and laughed in a way that bore no resemblance to a laugh ... He laughed and looked at me, you know? And she laughed again at that terrible way ... "
" Carlos, "the Raven stops, abruptly. "You can not go on like this. For months we pretend to anything, and I can understand that we will took a while 'to accept, but continue to tell you shit is absurd. You know it, right? "
" No, it's not this ... "
Slowly, he closes his eyes.
is not really that - the fact of finding love with a guy is definitely a nuisance, but does not scare even more so now.
No, that stage has passed. Perhaps it was
Mexico to reduce the prospects, perhaps is that everything becomes a habit. Or maybe they are tired - tired of fighting a lost war from the start. Fatigue to put up a futile resistance.
But around the corner of Vivian has always been made, and therein lies the real problem.
Vivian dancing on a disco track, which is nestled in the shadow of car unknown.
Vivian ride - looking at you straight in the eye with the picture of someone getting hung in the room. Saints and demons unknown.
Hamilton. Carlos
tends muscles - sits up.
Gliding on the bed, turns the elbows on his knees.
"Who is seeing now?" Application, pressing the palms on the eyelids.
"A guy who does not know," comes the reply, sincere. "Vivian did not has never been particularly eloquent in this regard. Do not even know his name, I know that is not just a kid. I think he has a few years older than me, too. "
" More than you? "He repeats. Slowly.
"I do not know exactly, but yes. That is, is a grown man, it seems. Definitely. "
" Okay ... "
Pause.
"Adult," he murmurs again Carlos.
It hurts.
hurts even expecting it - though perhaps expecting worse. Even if after all that often Vivian could mean that someone does not attend any more - that his lover tonight is likely to be the same as the night before. And the one before that. Running less danger, perhaps.
It hurts the same.
And it hurts even to the contrary, paradoxical thinking, which then is able to give up all right for a thousand lovers only. That he is not that one, though.
That never will be.
"Than ..." Hesitation. "Of what happened to Queer did not tell you anything, right?"
"Not exactly," Raven responds - and also that if the expected response.
What happened at the end of that night that directly relate to Vivian?
It will certainly have talked about time - the news that Herrera has been caught in situations that are not exactly straight was definitely too good not to share it with friends.
But then the argument can not but have spent there - maybe just a little 'disappointed not to have succeeded him, to get that prize. You can not say that he had not committed. This particular
could have irritated, actually. Just this.
Basta.
With a sudden decision, Carlos stands up.
It is getting free of evil, and when it is not even strong enough to support it. It has yet to unpack his suitcase, he thinks. Eat something.
and sleep, perhaps.
Being able to really relax. Detach the mind.
"Okay," she murmurs, dropping her arms at your sides. "I think I will ... You need a shower in the bathroom?"
"No, go quiet," says Raven, with a vague nod of the chin. "You want to go get something to eat after all, what do you say?"
"I do not know ..."
That did not quite know what to do with his life, Carlos - lunch or dinner is certainly less of a problem. But the Raven is missing, and this is the only thing that can reasonably be said to be safe.
"Let the canteen of the campus?" Dares thus lowering the handle of the bathroom.
"I think after the week you've been to Mexico a better place might make you comfortable canteen on campus," said the friend, with a half grin.
But then let her lips tend - tilts his head slightly. The
rests his hand on his shoulder, smiling.
"I'm glad you're back," adds. Carlos nods and
plan. He smiles in return.
And if you notice at that time, without any doubt. Without any uncertainty. To be truly back, at last.
To be at home.
In compensation, the whiskey has the reflexes of gold.
Ice cubes smooth draw forms in glass, and smoke slips along the edges of the glass with the sinuosity of a secret caress.
Annoyed, David frowns: The image reminded him of Keith, Keith, and in theory should be banned from the thoughts with all the severity of the case.
It is just a normal boy, at the bottom: eyes as a boy, a boy hips. Lower back as a kid.
A normal night of hunting and can easily find dozens of kids like him.
Yet the detail of her hands pressed against his chest have to have some importance if the mind continues to run aground on the imagination of lips that open, rather than bolt. Of breath that slips in your mouth like hot whiskey.
Shit.
It had never happened to send him a damn kid in a white evening - and the matter is all the more galling in light of the fact that, if it is to be honest, had never even occurred to commit so much to have someone in his bed. It is
found myself studying her own face in the mirror of the car that night - to depart the hair from the temples to see if by chance there was one white. And then he spent his fingers on his eyelids, he weighed the depths of dark circles do not exist. He carefully observed his forehead, looking for wrinkles too pronounced.
ridiculous.
There is nothing wrong in him, not his fault if an infant complexed decides to give vent to their inhibitions in his Jaguar.
But it is useless: David did not quite digested the outcome of the evening - has absolutely surreal metabolized by the fact of any boy who so easily free interweaving of its network of seduction. Why
for in the refusal of Keith have undoubtedly weighed the timidity and fear - even the inexperience, and perhaps even a sense of inadequacy that he is committed to self-administer for most of the evening - the fact remains that did not lose his head when he's has touched their lips. It has not been left paralyzed by her look - not at that time. Not when it was only logical left him paralyzed.
All this is incomprehensible - there is someone to be able to stand up to him with that determination.
also because he was convinced to have studied in detail, Keith was sure Having calibrated the gestures in a manner appropriate to his defense and does not remember ever having used such delicacy with anyone in the world - does not seem to be ever more careful. Or more convincing.
He can not understand.
The refusal of the boy escapes the most basic laws of cause and effect chain, and terribly disturbing the idea that any kid has been able to reverse roles with the naturalness - find hate to think of him in the middle of a meeting.
Even Samuel, with his delusions as an ascetic, was never able to violate the sacred territory of his work. With that obstinacy, then. As if he had chained the brain.
"David, Can you give me the honor of your presence? "beats the old, and he sends down the last mouthful of a drink of whiskey. Almost angrily.
"I do not think there is reason to be alarmed over the odds," he says, figuring that the long monologue of her father has not deviated one iota from the explanations first.
not followed the last part of the speech but knows him well enough to know what irritates him discover important details only a few days before the opening of a process.
In this case, then, the story also touches on thorny keys of his personal life - that for it even more can be said pedophilia disgusting homosexuality and the fact that the prosecutor can now rely on the testimony of two male children , nailing Holmes seems to have made him forget even his stiff aloofness.
"You are too sure of yourself, as usual," it growls, chugging a puff of black smoke. "I repeated a thousand times before or after that your attitude will eventually bring very serious trouble, David!"
"Actually, I must confess that we almost had hoped, in a development like this," he says, pouring another whiskey.
"Are you completely mad?"
"It 's much harder to discredit the testimony of traumatized girls - usually the girls who are victims of abuse are brought to close in on themselves."
Pause.
"Boys tend to react differently, however. It is likely that sfoghino growing anger with acts of vandalism, or exercising in turn violence on the weaker elements ... "
" You're sure to find something in their past? "
" They are both boys street, at the end. "
A smile - almost of defiance.
"You can not really say that our man did not have the smarts to try to strut in environments favorable to us, his charges. "
" Do not brilliant with me, David! "snarls the old man, enraged. "There are exactly five days to the beginning of the process and you still is not convinced your client to tell the whole story!"
But he shakes his head, putting the glass on the cabinet.
"Holmes not ever tell the whole story," replies, flatly. "There is much more than under his own inability to keep it in his pants in front of some sporadic minor, this is more than evident! "
" What are you talking about? "
" We're just lucky that the prosecution loses his time on the emotional trauma of street kids, "is the answer, abrupt. "Male or female. This is not what should worry, "adds David, taking a seat in his chair.
crossing his legs stretched out his arm on the table to retrieve the cigarettes - the lighter trigger. Inhales the smoke, do not rush.
and pretends not to notice that the gaze is fixed on him - it is carefully studying. That the argument should not have convinced at all, in all likelihood. But
is exasperated.
is starting to suffer quite seriously the obligation of having to account for every action that Methuselah in his dotage - a time perhaps a comparison could be challenging when the old man had not yet dell'arterosclerosi prey and he was only an aspiring lawyer with a lot 'of experience to accumulate.
Now things have changed, though - you are doing quell'interdipendenza forced choking. The case is his - not the law firm, not his father. His
.
he was to draw the defensive line, he has worked on it day and night. He has spent ideas, and talent - We will face him in court.
And he will win the case, it is more than convinced. Dislikes
know that the members will be under him, later, to reap the rewards of a success that should be hers alone. He hates that colony of parasites and detests mediocrity. I hate to
ballast.
But most of all hard to tolerate the interference of the old - no time to waste their stupid prejudices or want to share with some idiot bigot the secrets of a strategy that has cost labor, and labor. And sleepless nights.
Fuck.
"Permission?"
could not miss the icing on the cake at this point, why wonder?
His patience was not tested properly, otherwise - the training of self-control could not be complete!
Sharpening the eyelids, the eyes move slowly toward the door.
"Herrera," marks.
fingers tightened on the handle again, his assistant takes a step forward.
"Excuse the interruption ..."
seems very subdued - David had already noticed when entering office, he happened to run across quickly austere in the shadows of the corridor. Ironically
for the first time that morning, it was also dressed in an appropriate way: sober tie, dark dress. Face pale.
distinguish it from a spectrum, in such a context, it was not at all automatic.
"Oh, welcome back!" Had told him, passing alongside. "What, you have a group of Olmec used as a ball in a tournament pelota?"
not really expect that he would yet reviewed the job - he was convinced that he would throw in the towel between the bugs Santa María.
Evidently he had underestimated.
which has been proven by experience is beyond doubt, but this occurred despite the study on time. He began to print the mail, like every morning, he photocopied his daily stack of rulings. And now it is there that holds in his hands the dossier of documents he sent him to get on the opposite side of the city - documents knows to be unnecessary but also brought together and categorized as it did with the material of the utmost importance . Without any hint of protest, among other things.
not to believe.
slip more comfortably against the back, David crushes his cigarette in the ashtray.
"The documents are ready, waiting, wants leave it to him on the table? "I ask this, and casually waves him enter.
"I would prefer that I scanned them all," he says, pointing to the shelf. "In the meantime, we would be grateful if you were kind enough to pour a little 'whiskey, while you're standing."
"A glass for me," growls the old man.
Herrera would not comment.
"He phoned Brider, while you were in a meeting," tells the other hand, removing the cork from the bottle.
Pause.
"And Weldon. Again, "then adds after a moment hesitation. "Judith says that is trying for a week, it seems that the phone can not contact."
"Oh, really?"
"So says."
"What a funny ..."
Actually David did not expect anything different - the friends shows that the predictability in certain circumstances it is even fun.
continue to call for months, every morning. Every afternoon, exactly the same time, until he decides not to answer. Until reassure him that okay, that the matter has been digested and metabolized asceticism. No hard feelings.
Go fuck yourself!
For years, Samuel is the ugly and bad time in his life, taking it arbitrarily most unlikely directions. Obeying only its metaphysical delusions - taking advantage of every little tear in the net for his valuable groped flight north.
We therefore takes time to achieve its ridiculous supercelestial?
What we wallow in well, then - we drown!
He has nothing to do but sniff daffodils and bask in the presence of asexual celestial hierarchy: there is a process to be pursued, there are dozens of kids to be addressed raped. It is to look at their faces without lowering his eyes - without that determination falter. It is to be closed in a safe at his own humanity - locked. Forget the combination for months. Forever, maybe.
"David?"
"Hm?"
Frown, when he changes position.
The air is thick with smoke in the room and the smell of cigar seems to burn in the pit of my stomach a slight hint of nausea.
"His whiskey," Carlos marks on the opposite side of the desk, holding out his glass. "I have to add ice? "
" Do not say shit, "is the answer.
The boy nods, slowly.
"Want more?" Then asks, approaching the door. "He wants the appeals Weldon?"
"Do me a favor to contact the man, David!" Exclaims the old man, waving his hand in a gesture of exasperation. "All we need is to come and look for the Studio in a moment like this - as if we had enough trouble for us!"
"So ... I call him?" Application Carlos, unable to hide the surprised expression. Disorientation.
For a moment, considering the situation, David is almost ready to burst out laughing.
"No, I think," he says. Holds a smile. "I'll do it tonight from a public phone - you never know where the press could place his bugs ..."
"I warn you that you're going through the limit!" Growls his stepfather.
But he swallows the whiskey, quietly. Rests the glass on the table.
and enjoys the face of lost Herrera, meanwhile - his bewilderment. Hesitation blank looks - the movements. You
a show.
Whether it's struggling to follow the direction of the discourse is more than obvious, yet this time you can not even blame him. You have to be grown together with Samuel to understand certain things on the fly - you must have seen his stories cut out of the contests and his chest scarred edge. Turned their backs on him must be a thousand times a thousand times and have never heard of remorse. And a thousand times it choked with care. A lifetime of training.
"I repeat once again that the situation is completely under control," he tells his father, pushing his chair from the table. Crossing her legs.
is starting to show signs of impatience.
"It would have been under control if your childhood friend had limited himself to writing novels decent" marks but the old man, waving his cigar in the air. "Not the rubbish - not to mention constantly gays and lesbians, let's go!"
"Homosexuals," David corrects him. "We try to be politically correct ..."
"I wonder why some people seem to insist on banging their perversions in the face to all law abiding citizens of the country ..."
"Probably because the country is so ; full of honest citizens threaten to explode! "is the answer, unexpected, and David turns his head suddenly.
The old man snaps the chair, the image defines the contours. Defines the center of gravity, slowly - focuses on the forms. The sound of the voice.
Herrera.
as it may seem impossible Herrera was talking, no one else in the room.
Nobody apart from their three - and David knows he does not harbor ambitions suicide. Would never have dreamed of coming up with a sentence like that - not a fool. Doing shit like not one of the things he never thought he could give.
Herrera must be crazy. Obviously it is
Mexico was the sun to melt the brain, or maybe the bugs were particularly lethal. Maybe it's really more naive than to cling to a normal human being.
Yet something does not - there is a clear contradiction between the image of homophobic bastard was talking about Vivian and kind of strange that we have just launched suicide dive against the impregnable fortress of the crazy old man.
Intrigued, David points his elbow on the armrest of his chair - his chin sunk between forefinger and thumb. Carefully observe the thrust of the ostinato in the eyes of Carlos appalled and shocked by his stepfather.
"What he said exactly, your assistant? "comes the question, glacial.
"I said ..."
"Herrera, do me a favor ..." I interrupted him, standing up. "Deliver us with your presence, we have a meeting to be concluded. Thank you. "
Silence.
"Herrera," he says again, noting that the boy has not moved a single step. Showing no signs of taking his eyes - which seems to have no intention of leaving. "Get out!"
He never thought he would have his ass to save the trainee nor that for some reason you would ever feel motivated to do so.
not really know what they themselves do not push it in that direction - the anger still lingers in the stomach only if his mind goes back to concentrating on the words of Vivian. Or the image of Carlos and Megan talking softly, too close. Too closely.
Yet the unconscious boy's carries a strange nostalgia, something inexplicable. And, as for some inexplicable reason, seems to be related somehow to the eye of Keith. The reflection of light in his eyes.
Fuck even the kid, dammit!
"You should get rid of insolent. It is completely unnecessary, " Meanwhile, the old is grunting, and he shakes his head irritably.
glanced at the doorway, now empty. Get
cigarettes - quickly.
"After the trial on that later. It is too involved in the case, I would take another month to train, "he says, waving his hand in a gesture bored. Sa
star of bluffing - mainly to himself. But the suspicion that he is not stoned nice thing to be tackled, and today harassment or interference has been all too. He
harangue to prepare him. A process to win. So sit back
- opens the file he was working. Opens the computer.
And for the moment that decides everything else, simply can not go straight to hell.
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