Maintaining eye contact, he holds open his jacket and takes out a pen, and from another pocket, he produces a business card. He looks into my eyes int...nsely and then writes something on the back of the card and hands it to me, and with that, my encounter with Signor Contin is over, at least for the time being. I assume he has given me his autograph, him being famous and everything. I thought this was a bit pretentious, actually, but I accepted it gracefully and put it in the pocket of my dress. "Clark I still don't like you and my promise still holds but you know how to fight and more important when to fight. You still have your Lance. You screw it up and the last thing in this lifetime you will hear is loud bangs. I will open your back up and let your missiles take you to Hell where you belong. Clear?" He nodded.He didn't like it but he nodded. I'm not sure if I was still pissed at him or if I was taking my frustration with Cummins out on him. That woman could drive a saint to. More

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