“Come in!” Lisa called out, then she told me, quickly, “We’ll get into this later.”
Sounds good.
Seeing the first three men come into the room, I was left with the distinct impression that Lisa had picked out the biggest, meanest looking men in her retinue. Then I saw the fourth guy. Where the first three were in the neighborhood of six feet in height, physically powerful, the fourth was an inch or so shorter than I was, though he was still in good shape.
Better shape than me, for sure, but not someone imposing, like the rest.
Hm. I guess what he lacks in size and intimidation, he makes up for in some other way. Also, I imagine there are no points for guessing which one of these guys is “Minor”.
Of the four, I noted the guy who was wearing the most wrinkled clothes, with the thick beard and the broad gut. He wasn’t imposing because he’d packed on muscle like the others, but because he was big, looking like a grizzly bear that was dressed up like a person.
Niice.
What caught my eye, though, was the ironic fact that this same guy was having the hardest time at shrugging off that stiff-backed, square-shouldered military bearing that had been hammered into him at some point during his onetime career.
Hehe.
I’m guessing this is… Senegal. Or Brooks. I doubt it’s Jaw, at least, since that’s a nickname you’d think would be given to a guy with a noteworthy jaw.
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