I laughed — a short, ugly sound that bounced off the wood and leather like an assault rifle. "Knew? I counted on it. I counted on you being smart enough to cover your asses but not smart enough to read page thirty-two, subsection C of the agreement you just signed."
Macha went from flushed to blanch to the exact color of a man who'd been told Santa Claus is real and also decapitated your family. When he found the clause he looked like he'd swallowed a live crab.
"Any legal action against any entity related to the Charlotte Thompson matter must be approved by Charlotte Thompson herself," he read, voice unspooling. "With full compliance from all signatory parties."
"Motherfucker, goddamn smart, motherfucker," Professor Manning breathed. Perfect. Economy of language, honestly. Too bad, I am indeed a motherfucker. Refer to Jack in the next two weeks. He'll tell you more.
