Good boy, Badass boy
His tone walked the lines between contempt and bitterness.
"Get in your house." He ordered, fixing his glare on him.
He saw Clemente bite back his words with gritted teeth and then do as he was told with excess force.
"Lock the door."
He waited until he heard the key turn twice and then an extra minute before he silently went down the stairs and out of the rebellious building.
He bit back a string of profanities, stopping in his tracks, as he beheld three men, obviously thugs, reclining on his car. One on the bonnet, one against the driver's door and the last, against the passenger's door, facing him.
Bab Populer