Langston Caldwell admitted she wasn't a match for her, so he simply kept his mouth shut.
For someone like him, being able to fight was enough; verbal sparring wasn't necessary.
If things could be solved with fists, he never bothered with pointless chatter.
As they were nearing their destination, Langston asked South Grant, "What can you possibly do when you get there? Words are in the reporters' mouths; are you planning on punching them?"
Langston's eyes glinted with anticipation. South Grant glanced at him coolly and then replied,
"Who said you must resort to violence to stir things up? Only the lowest kind need to use force. You're definitely in that bottom tier."
Damn it!
If it weren't for Nathan Foster's instructions, you'd have died thirty times over this past month!
As they arrived at The Brellian Clubhouse, South Grant and Langston Caldwell got out of the car.
