Nathan looked at Anson, too. He felt he was just so-so.
Anson sat down on the sofa opposite Beasley and leaned back. He put his right hand on the armrest and moved his index and middle fingers slightly.
Immediately, one of his subordinates came up. He took out a cigar, put it between his fingers, and then lit it up.
Anson put the cigar into his mouth, puffed, and exhaled a thick smoke.
He didn't say a word, but his behavior impressed people deeply. They felt stressed.
The only one who still felt relaxed was Nathan. He just thought Anson was mincing. If he were in Devendill Prison, everyone would beat him because of his pretending.
Anson finally started to speak, "I didn't expect to meet Mr. Evans today. You are so young."
Nathan didn't bother to speak to him. He took a sip of wine and only looked at him out of the corner of his eye.