Inside Michael Sterling's head, agents were screaming about commissions, fax machines were screeching, and Kenji Sato was constantly asking if they could buy a yacht to conduct negotiations on.
"I need air," Michael announced, standing up from his mahogany desk.
Arthur Milton, who was currently trying to balance a stack of scouting reports on his head, looked up. "Air? Boss, outside is Yorkshire. The air is 40% coal dust and 60% rain."
"It's better than listening to Enzo complain about the espresso machine again," Michael sighed, grabbing his coat. "Come on. Let's go for a walk. Leave the phone. Leave the jelly babies."
Arthur looked horrified. "Leave the jelly babies? Is this a punishment drill?"
"It's a sanity drill, Arthur. Move."
They walked away from the gleaming new training complex, down the hill, and into the heart of the local community. It was a grey Tuesday afternoon. The sky looked like a bruised peach, threatening rain but holding off for now.
