The man leans the small of his back against the bar and shelves behind him. "I'd have to hear more about what you mean before I could answer that properly."
“I need distribution,” Malcolm says, enunciating the word slowly, like he’s talking to an idiot. He gets up from his stool. “Look, you’re not really great at paying attention; I’m not sure I’ve come to the right place. But thanks for the drink,” he adds, tapping his hand on the bar and gesturing to Dani that they’re going.
Malcolm hesitates, then shrugs and returns to his seat gesturing for Dani to hand him his briefcase, which he opens on the bar, taking out a bottle of whiskey and setting it there.
"Okay, but this one's on me." He nods at the bottle. "Pour. Let me know what you think."
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But he doesn't sound disinterested.
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Neal shifts in his seat, leaning forward a little, speaking in Malcolm’s ear. “Now offer him a taste of what he’d be transporting.”
It took the better part of a day and a half and an almighty hangover, but Neal and Mozzie pulled their counterfeit together.
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"Okay, but this one's on me." He nods at the bottle. "Pour. Let me know what you think."