"Stop fighting, you guys, stop!" Jasmine Yale cried out anxiously.
But neither of the men listened, neither spoke, they just kept fighting.
It was the first time Jasmine Yale witnessed men fighting like this, as if they didn't care about their lives. If this continued, someone would truly get hurt.
Neither of them were amateurs.
And now, Yukon Carbon was clearly at a disadvantage, his denim jacket stained with blood.
Sylvan Cheney wasn't much better, his clean and crisp suit was full of wrinkles, several shirt buttons were torn off, and his tie was askew.
"Yukon, stop! Sylvan Cheney, stop! Don't fight!"
Jasmine Yale's small face was full of anxiety, turning blue, red, and white in turns, helpless, not daring to step forward and intervene.
"I'm begging you, stop fighting, please? Can we sit down and talk instead? Stop fighting..." Jasmine Yale's voice quavered with tears, her eyes rimmed red.
In her gaze towards them was nothing but helplessness and confusion.
