As Robert Yancey:
Robert snapped his cellphone closed. Of all the low down, cotton' pickin things to do. That woman went and invited the porcupine. Good God. Almost a week with Ms Krispy Kreme. Maybe he should just get one of the rookies to just shoot him now to end his misery.
“That damned woman.” That seemed to be his mantra of late, where his wife was concerned that is. He rifles through the drawers of the desk he's been given. How he hates special assignments. He found what he was looking for and dialed the number.
“Yeah. This is Yancey. I need to get another ticket.” He rolls his eyes. “No ya ninny. For the circus...of course for a flight.” Idiots, he's surrounded by idiots.
