This is what comradeship means!
Maybe his abilities are not the best, but Casare's loyalty is beyond words; this is his way of expressing it, so genuine.
"You." Victor shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness, but more importantly, trust, "Sit down."
Only then did Casare sit down on the chair beside him and glanced at the briefing on the table.
"Boss, are you looking into Brazil?" Casare asked, his voice steadying.
"Yes," Victor picked up a piece of watermelon, took a bite; the juice was refreshingly sweet, but his gaze remained sharp, "Colombia has essentially blown up into chaos—there won't be major drug cartels anymore as long as the Colombian Government doesn't mess things up, but this time killing the chicken to scare the monkeys, and this monkey..."
He pointed at the satellite photo of Rosina Slum in Rio de Janeiro with his fork, "is too big, too slick. They're entrenched, tsk, troublesome."
