What the hell is Guzman calling for?
What's there to talk about with a drug trafficker like him.
It's either you die or I perish.
Victor frowned and glanced at Casare.
As a trusted "Fatty Tiger," he understood immediately.
What trash you are!
What kind of trash is my boss, and you want him to answer the phone?
It's beneath him!
Victor is now the Governor of the Northern Province, and anyone visiting Mexico in the future can't bypass him. You think you, just a lowly drug trafficker, can call him directly? That's like using a Katyusha to swat a mosquito—complete overkill!
Casare took the phone from the secretary. As soon as he opened his mouth, even Victor thought he swore dirtily.
"Yo, isn't this the great filial son? What? Mr. Guzman wants to see your mother's other leg?"
!!!
A top-notch Mexican cold joke.
Why don't you collect five pieces and then summon your mom to appear?
The smile on Casare's face froze. Looking at his boss, he gave a sheepish grin, "He hung up."
