"Francisco Franco!"
This name had the Spanish intelligence agency all EMO.
Who isn't scared?
You're enjoying hotpot and singing songs late at night, playing poker with a woman, then a bunch of guys just burst in and go rat-a-tat-tat at you, do you sleep with a bulletproof vest on?
Fear!
Being afraid!
Marsellino glanced at Four Eyes, "Weren't you the one who wanted to challenge him one-on-one? Go on in and see if you don't get turned into a sieve."
"You still have time to joke around!"
Four Eyes was like his underwear had been flipped over, not caring in the slightest that the other party was his superior, livid with humiliation.
Marsellino took a drag of his cigarette very calmly, tossed it into the trash can beside him, squinted his eyes, and while looking at the loudly singing officers, he thought of many things.
The last ones to hold military songs in such high regard were the Germans during World War II.