BISON MEAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
So. Cless has two choices here. He can terminally compete with this chap to the bitter end. Or.... he can burry him now. Right where he stands.
"well, that seems like an easy one". He says even to just himself. He even has a laugh.
So. He stalks. If only for a few seconds. Down the steps and to the butcher's room.
There's his prey . How did he become so sadistic so soon?
This is a game of logistics. We simply can't have a fair showing. Tbis is business after all.
Jordan stood there under the hums of the fan. Just perusing the morning's stats. Cless imagines his other options. How else could he commit this original sin?
By smashing Jordan's head into a waffle iron set on high? That'd be too much time for a struggle. We're trying to get back to the office before anyone ssee's we're out.
The shadows are on your side . So Cless moves in on the doorway, its wide open after all.
CLess pounds the deba deep into the back of Jordan's neck. Just between the shoulders. We could call it a perfect first attempt.
"what the faaauuugggghh" Jordan doubled over onto the cool counter and released some gushing blood. Holding onto his neck for some reassurance, he's still alive after all.
"Gimme back my knife, "
Cless grabbed the handle of the deba and pressed against the oaf's back...He claws the blade out with a crunch.
"now you're out!!"
Jordan flops over onto the nearby table and slowly lowers himself on the floor. It's looking pretty uncomfortable.