"Fucking Homosoto, that yellow skinned prick . . ."
"Homosoto?" She stopped upon hearing the name.
Miles leapt up from the couch and raced over to the corner of the
room with his computers. He pounced on the keyboard of the
NipCom computer and told it to dial Homosoto's number in Japan.
That son of a bitch better be there. Answer, damn it.
<<<<<<AUTOCRYPT CONVERSATION>>>>>>
Homosoto!!!!!
The delay seemed interminable as Miles waited for him to get on line. Perky followed him over to the computer and watched as he made contact. She knew that Miles and Homosoto spoke often over the computer, too often for Miles' taste. Homosoto whined to Miles almost every day, about one thing or another, and Miles complained to her about how irritating his childish interference was. But throughout it all, Perky had never been privy to their conversations. She had stayed her distance, until this time.
Miles had been in rages before; she had become unwillingly accus- tomed to his furious outbursts. Generally they were unfocused eruptions; a sophomoric way of releasing pent up energy and frus- tration. But this time, Miles' face clearly showed fear. Steph- anie saw the dread. "Miles! What does Homosoto have to do with this? Miles, please!" She pleaded with him to include her. The screen finally responded.
MR. FOSTER. AN UNEXPECTED PLEASURE.
You imperial mother fucker.