Maynard paced back and forth in his office. There was a look of pure rage on his face and mixed ones on his underlings'.
"Motherfucker!"
He threw a couch at the wall.
"Mother fucking piece of shit! WITOLD!"
His footsteps echoed through the room. They were heavy, falling in rhythm. The office was now in disarray. Overturned furniture, shattered glass, and scattered papers littered the floor. There was nowhere to sit, nowhere to hide.
Maynard's followers showed different reactions. Some were scared by Maynard's fit of rage, as they were much weaker than him.
Wide eyes, shaking hands, pale faces. It was there. Sweating, they remained in silence, fearing whatever noise they made could attract their boss's ire.
Others looked serious. Not scared by Maynard's antics, obviously used to such situations, or simply strong enough to stop him in case he attacked them.
