“So I grab the case,” Marv says, eyes wide, “and I’m out the window—three stories, fire escape catches me—and the guy inside, he’s still sleeping.”
Marv finally speaks. “What do I tell the Boss?”
“But the intel said—”
Marv sits there, the cheap digital watch on Leo’s wrist suddenly making sense: it wasn’t cheap. It was precise.
He reaches into his own jacket. Marv flinches. Leo pulls out a folded napkin, opens it. Inside: a single, beautiful gold pocket watch. Engraved. pulp-fiction
He stands. Drops a five on the table for the coffee.
Leo sets his cup down. “You checked the case before you left?” “So I grab the case,” Marv says, eyes
“Lesson is,” Leo says, “don’t be fast. Be on time . And if you ever bring me a granola bar instead of what I asked for again, I’m going to use that golf glove to slap you so hard you’ll taste leather for a week.”
“Nah, man, no time. But it’s heavy. Felt like watches.” He reaches into his own jacket
Leo slides the watch across the table. Marv doesn’t touch it.