And ye're saying ye were silly? The boy started hitting the keyboard again. What're ye writing that down? said Sammy. Yeh. Well I'd prefer ye no to. I've got to but Mister Samuels. How? Cause it's material. We're required to do it. Sammy sniffed. Ye no got a delete button? Yeh but no for this operation. If the custom doesnt want something in they're supposed to not say it. Once it's in it cannay come out. I dont have the authority; I'm just a Preliminary Officer. I'm no allowed to adjudicate on something where it's material. Ye didnay write down the football stuff. Well that isnay material. Now is there anything else ye want to say? Eh? Sammy scratched his chin; he found the stick and used it to get himself up off the chair. He heard the boy getting up and coming round towards him: I'll guide ye through to the IMO's office, he said. Want to take my arm? What? He lifted Sammy's hand and placed it on his wrist. Sammy was tense as fuck but managed to stOP himself applying pressure. The boy's wrist was thin; Sammy could have snapped it with one quick chop. Now the boy moved forwards and Sammy went with him. It felt weird. He hadnay walked like this with anybody afore. The funny thing was how he seemed in control of himself but at the same time he wasnay cause he was getting led, and yet it was his own hand that held the grip and no other way about. It took him a wee minute to remember he was angry. His stick knocked against the door. The boy opened it and guided him through it, and then to a chair. Just sit down here, he said, it'll no be long. Ye okay now? Sammy had took away his hand; now he lowered himself onto the chair, preparing for the slope. Ye okay now Mister Samuels? Sammy sniffed. There was fuck all to say. He wasnay even angry any longer. It BAFFLER路
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