Victor merely gazed at him calmly, as if saying: My people are speaking the truth, while you are still trying to weave a rope of lies. The choice between the consequences or departure lies with you.
The air in the office, due to Casare's rapid-fire sarcasm and Cavendi's embarrassment, became unbearably awkward. The diplomatic mask that the British had relied on for centuries—polite yet aloof—was utterly torn off, revealing the pallid underside.
"My time is very precious."
"What price do your citizens' lives hold in the eyes of your government? That is the real core issue. You want my people to risk entering Medellin's meat grinder to bring out your gentlemen and ladies unscathed. Fine, but this isn't a charity event. This is a high-risk military operation. Risks demand compensation."
Victor couldn't be bothered to waste breath on these people; the British are too arrogant, always thinking they are still the Sun Never Sets.
