“Clearly,” Scott began, running a tired hand over his face. Careful not to disrupt his glasses, of course. “Clearly, you have some very strong feelings about this.” The tone of voice was his most diplomatic, reserved for disputes involving weapons of mass destruction, or those involving controversial pizza toppings. “All I’m saying,” he pressed on, “is I don’t think we’re going to come to an agreement until tomorrow. You don’t agree?” Scott has hardly looked up from the stack of papers in front of him the whole exchange.











