Bull seemed to suddenly find his voice, and man, did he go on and on.
"Dude, is Fiona always giving you a hard time?" Bull asked, looking all serious.
Oliver instantly regretted starting up a chat with Bull; this guy could really talk your ear off.
Even when Oliver clammed up, Bull kept yapping away.
"Cat got your tongue?" Bull pressed on.
Oliver lifted his head, "Fiona's great, she's really good to me, exceptionally good."
"Looks like Fiona's really greasing your palm well. No matter how much she pushes you around, you're always singing her praises. Quite professional. Is that how all your colleagues are? Never a bad word about the clients?"
Oliver just gave him a blank look.
Trying to change the subject and fish for some info, Oliver asked, "You really hate Fiona that much, huh? Did she run over your dog or something?"
Bull looked taken aback.
"Can't you talk properly? If not, just zip it!" Bull was fuming.
Another lackey couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching his stomach, "Bull, someone's hitting a nerve, huh?"
It was hard not to notice; Bull was practically asking for it, how could he blame anyone else?
"Shut it! Always bringing up what should be left alone!" Bull stormed off in a huff.
If Bull didn't still need Oliver, he’d have probably taken him down right then and there.
Oliver sat on a dusty staircase, scanning his surroundings, looking for something he could use as a weapon.
...
As Josefina arrived at the deserted villa complex, her entourage stopped at the gate, and two goons stepped forward with a metal detector, signaling her to get off the motorcycle.
Bull eyed Josefina, "Fiona, if you're carrying any weapons, hand them over now. Save yourself the trouble."
Josefina got off the bike, "I'm not carrying any weapons, but hey, feel free to check if you don't believe me!"
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