#196849 - An hour, sixty minutes of quiet with Desmond and me in the car waiting when we see Wilma walk out with the skinny Asian hacker hanging all over her. Desmond wrapped my hands in some athletic tape and has me waiting outside the door for what he says will be a noticeable signal. “Yes, it was rude to do but the manager didn’t have a bell to ring,” Wilma replies leaning her head against the window,” it’s sad too, he showed some promise.
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