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XIII: Progress?
He paced the length of his office, clutching his cellphone in his hand. His fists clenched and unclenched, the veins in his neck popping. Things were not going as planned, he had everything set out beforehand so why was it not going as planned?
His hands balled into fists as he spoke in rapid Turkish, his voice rising to a pitch as his anger escalated. He slammed his fist onto the desk, muttering profanities in Turkish. He sighed loosening his tie a bit then pushed back the strands of hair that fell over his face, pondering over what to do to remedy the situation.
He had two options, it was either to stay or call Lale in. The situation would've been more favorable if he stayed but he didn't want to spend another day in Istanbul so calling her in would be his only option.
How do I approach her considering how much she hates these meetings?
He picked his office phone and punched in a few numbers, waiti
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