July 27, Colombia's new Department of Justice building!?
Ethan Hunt's eyes narrowed.
Could this be the so-called "North American Drug Trafficking Association" meeting place?
Boom boom boom...
Just then, someone was banging loudly on the door outside, shouting, "Hey, you done yet? Asshole!"
Colombians aren't the least bit polite.
Pfft~
The person outside clearly had a noisy stomach, as a fart was let loose directly, the stench really fucking went to the brain, Ethan Hunt almost threw up.
"Idio... idiot~ are you done yet?" The voice outside was trembling, even quavering.
Ethan Hunt wasn't in a hurry, when dealing with impolite people, you've got to put aside the helping complex; he took a cig in the room, lit a scrap of paper with a lighter, then used the latter to light his cigarette.
He dropped it into the toilet bowl, flushed the toilet, and watched the paper vanish after a few swirls.
