God he hated this man. Perhaps this was his punishment happening in real time—continued contact. One of the least charming stupid conversations he'd ever had. (Getting to know the people he has, the old man has absolutely had his fair share of charmingly stupid discussions. None of them with present company, however.)
"I understand that you're a damn poser. And you're proud to be one. But I suppose that does come with the dual-territory of politics and business. I liked you better when you were benevolently dull and interesting instead of whatever the hell this is."
Points had been scored. They weren't worth much, because the Director was correct: Hargrove was very satisfied with his present circumstances.
"Whatever gets results, dear Director." The Chairman examined his nails before rubbing them against his suit jacket. "That is something I would have thought you did understand. Your own charming accent, while genuine, undoubtedly makes up for your own shortfalls."













