mblessing1989
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"Another reporter no doubt..." Joey mumbled to himself, as he rolled his eyes at the flashing display on his phone.
He slid the phone back in to his inside pocket and picked his leather satchel from the floor, in one swift move. As he approached the automatic doors, to the airport of Madrid, he managed to get a quick glance athimself in the reflection of the tinted glass. Joey Robinson couldn't help but turn heads. He towered most with his six foot-three figure, dark, professionally cut slick back haircut, light stubble and a fine taste for suits. He fixed the collar on his immaculate white shirt and proceeded out of the airport.
A glare of sun forced him to squint instantly. Joey slid his hand over his breast pocket and drew out a pair of polarised aviator sunglasses.
As he walked outside, he glanced from left to right, overlooking a sea of Taxis; his glance was caught by a scrawny looking man, with a very ill-fitting suit, standing in front of an impeccably clean, black Mercedes saloon car. The scrawny gentleman, who Joey assumed to be the chauffeur of the vehicle, gave him a discreet nod. Joey turned on his heels and started briskly walking toward the car.
"Hola" Joey nervously said to the chauffeur. He had always sustained some level of self-consciousness when speaking anything other than his native English.
The chauffeur frowned, removed his sunglasses and gave Joey an intense stare.
"You don't honestly think we'd send a Spanish native to come and pick you up do ya?!" The driver replied, with a comedic smile on his face.
Joey rolled his eyes. Flying was a big deal for Joey and any jokes at this moment in time were certainly not appreciated. The driver opened the rear door and Joey slid himself inside in the car. The cool breeze of the air conditioning hit Joey that he couldn't help but let out a sigh of instant relief. The driver jumped in and played around with the in-car satellite navigation system for a moment. The destination was on-screen for just enoug htime for Joey to catch a glimpse;
"Santiago Bernabeu Stadium, Av de Concha Espina".
He slid the phone back in to his inside pocket and picked his leather satchel from the floor, in one swift move. As he approached the automatic doors, to the airport of Madrid, he managed to get a quick glance athimself in the reflection of the tinted glass. Joey Robinson couldn't help but turn heads. He towered most with his six foot-three figure, dark, professionally cut slick back haircut, light stubble and a fine taste for suits. He fixed the collar on his immaculate white shirt and proceeded out of the airport.
A glare of sun forced him to squint instantly. Joey slid his hand over his breast pocket and drew out a pair of polarised aviator sunglasses.
As he walked outside, he glanced from left to right, overlooking a sea of Taxis; his glance was caught by a scrawny looking man, with a very ill-fitting suit, standing in front of an impeccably clean, black Mercedes saloon car. The scrawny gentleman, who Joey assumed to be the chauffeur of the vehicle, gave him a discreet nod. Joey turned on his heels and started briskly walking toward the car.
"Hola" Joey nervously said to the chauffeur. He had always sustained some level of self-consciousness when speaking anything other than his native English.
The chauffeur frowned, removed his sunglasses and gave Joey an intense stare.
"You don't honestly think we'd send a Spanish native to come and pick you up do ya?!" The driver replied, with a comedic smile on his face.
Joey rolled his eyes. Flying was a big deal for Joey and any jokes at this moment in time were certainly not appreciated. The driver opened the rear door and Joey slid himself inside in the car. The cool breeze of the air conditioning hit Joey that he couldn't help but let out a sigh of instant relief. The driver jumped in and played around with the in-car satellite navigation system for a moment. The destination was on-screen for just enoug htime for Joey to catch a glimpse;
"Santiago Bernabeu Stadium, Av de Concha Espina".
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