“The cat looked fabulous,” Zohan said, finally turning. His eyes, warm and brown a moment ago, now held the flat calm of a man who’d once disarmed a missile with a bottle of Pantene.
What happened next was less a fight and more a very aggressive hair treatment. Zohan moved like water. He ducked a swinging punch, spun behind Dmitri, and snip-snip-snip —the back of the brute’s suit jacket fell away in ribbons, leaving a neat, tapered V-shape. “Very slimming,” Zohan noted. watch don't mess with the zohan
“Boris wants you gone,” Dmitri snarled. “Or he sends you to the hospital. In pieces.” “The cat looked fabulous,” Zohan said, finally turning
Dmitri slammed a photograph on the counter. It showed a man with a scarred face and dead eyes. “This is Boris. You humiliated him in the underground cat-fighting league last year. You did not fight his cat. You gave his cat a… a bob cut.” Zohan moved like water