"So what exactly are you saying, Mr. Walter?" Adrian asked, leaning back in the leather chair as if this were nothing more than another board meeting. He looked dapper as ever, suit crisp, watch gleaming, not a hair out of place. You wouldn't think his wife and unborn child had just died. You wouldn't think anything had happened at all.
Walter stared at him across the desk, his eyes bloodshot, the exhaustion pulling at the lines around his mouth. "I'm saying you don't have access to those assets."
Adrian let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. "Look at me, Walter. Do you think I want to be here talking about assets when my wife just died?"
Walter blinked slowly, stunned by the audacity. "Yes," he said. "Because you're sitting there like you're having a swell time. Like you just won the lottery."
"Watch your tone," Adrian snapped. "You don't have any bullets left in that gun of yours. There's nothing scary about a gun without ammunition."
