She seed to have heard people ntioning that Nathalie Quinlan got into Group 10, the so-called death group.
Since Nathalie Quinlan was here anyway.
The ragtag mbers of Group 10 should also be here.
She curled her lips with a hint of derision. She knew full well the implication in Nelson Jones’s words about using connections to get Nathalie Quinlan kicked out of the Ocean Pavilion, but she had no intention of bothering with her own group mbers. Instead, she felt a bit better, like she was watching a scene play out.
*
Two minutes isn’t a long ti.
It passed in the blink of an eye.
Seeing that the two minutes were up, the manager pulled down her sleeve to cover the watch on her wrist, reminding the three in the private room again.
"Ti’s up."
She was being so aggressive.
Wincent Sullivan and Agnes Baker both had unpleasant expressions.
Agnes was almost provoked into arguing with her again.
Nathalie Quinlan stretched her arm, checked the ti on her phone, and said in a voice devoid of any emotion, "Two minutes already?"
"Heh." The Ocean Pavilion’s manager casually flipped her short hair by her ear, her sharp gaze sweeping over the three: "Ms. Quinlan, it was you who suggested waiting for two minutes, and I waited as you said. Now that the ti is up, please don’t delay my work any longer..."
She clearly had a ’please leave’ intention.
Just then.
There was a flurry of hurried footsteps outside the private room.
Soone hurriedly arrived at the private room.
The newcor was tall and thin, with a scant amount of hair left on top of his head, yet he stubbornly combed the few remaining strands neatly—a very distinct personal style.
As soon as he appeared, the previously aggressive female manager’s deanor changed drastically. She imdiately left Nathalie Quinlan and the others, rushing up eagerly: "Manager."
However, the newcor completely ignored her, brushing past her shoulder directly and heading straight for Nathalie Quinlan.
Very ingratiatingly: "What wind blew you here? Why didn’t you let know beforehand? I could have saved a better private room for you. How could I let you squeeze into this small private room..."
The female manager’s face turned pale, her voice hoarse: "Manager..."
"Shut up! I’ll deal with your matter later." The Ocean Pavilion manager rcilessly reprimanded her. "..." The previously arrogant short-haired woman instantly wilted like a frost-battered eggplant, not daring to speak another word.
Wincent Sullivan and Agnes Baker looked bewildered, and Agnes even had her mouth slightly open, completely unable to grasp the situation.
Nathalie Quinlan didn’t waste words on him, slightly lifted her chin, and casually asked, "How do you plan to handle this matter?"
"Hmm?" The Ocean Pavilion’s manager appeared to be a person with emotional intelligence. He didn’t answer imdiately but cautiously looked at the girl, asking in a low voice, "How do you want to handle this matter?"
"?" Nathalie’s gaze swept over the disgruntled and slumped female manager who appeared sickly, recalling what she had done earlier, and casually said: "They wouldn’t even let us have a al? Then let’s give them a taste of their own dicine. I’m also curious who wouldn’t let finish my al."
"Manager." Upon hearing this, the female manager panicked, imdiately lifting her head and urgently trying to explain to the Ocean Pavilion manager: "It’s Zeva..."
Nelson Jones also has a background.
Not to ntion, Nelson Jones is a mber of Zevaney Kingsley’s group.
Zevaney Kingsley has the support of the Kingsleys Family behind him.
The female manager was just about to lay out all these important relationships.
However, the Ocean Pavilion manager didn’t acknowledge her at all, nodding seriously at the girl, as if not pondering whether it might offend the other party, he imdiately stated: "I understand. I’ll take care of it right away."
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