"Ah, youth is the time to enjoy life, otherwise you'll be too tired when you're old. Back when I was young, I could use a whole box of condoms in one night without a sweat. Fast forward ten years, and I can't even use a box in a month. But Mr. Cheney surely is a seasoned veteran; I need to learn some tricks from him."
"Jesse Rowan, sign the papers!"
With a "bang," Sylvan Cheney slapped the contract in front of him and threw a pen at him.
Sylvan Cheney's face remained emotionless, with not a trace of fluctuation even in his eyes.
Jesse Rowan paused and clicked his tongue twice, thinking: an insensitive old man.
He lowered his head, holding a cigarette in one hand and the pen in the other, signing where needed.
He didn't bother with the terms and conditions—recent financial matters had left him overwhelmed, and he hadn't gone out drinking or clubbing for days.
He'd never suffered like this before—early starts and long overtime hours every day.
