146 真的是祖传，我爷二十多年前就琢磨钛夹的事儿了(2/8)
下午就想通了,切了一个息肉,做了一个止血,中间抽了根烟。你们该请我吃十年晚饭。)
威廉哈哈大笑,伸手拍在许文元肩膀上,拍得一声闷响。
旁边那个戴金丝边眼镜的技术主管也跟着笑,笑着笑着,伸手摸了摸自己后脑勺,像是还在回味刚才那场谈判。
"Dinner? Hell, I'll buy you a steakhouse. A good one. You come to New Jersey, I'll take you to Peter Luger. Best steak you'll ever put in your mouth. You can tell me what you're drawing in that h
ead of yours while we eat."
(晚饭?妈的,我请你吃牛排。
好的那种。你来新泽西,我带你去Peter Luger。你吃过最好的牛排。边吃边告诉我你脑子里又在画什么。)
许文元摇头,嘴角那点笑还在。
"Nah. You guys wouldn't know what to do with real food anyway. I'll take you to my spot next time you're in town-proper Chinese food, not that sweet-and-sour crap you get in New York. But Jer
sey? Man, I don't think I can handle that. The last time I ate American food, I thought my stomach was gonna file for divorce."
(不了。你们反正也不知道什么叫好吃。下次你们来,我带你们去我常去的地儿——正经中餐,不是纽约那种甜不拉几的玩意儿。
新泽西?哥们儿,我可吃不惯。
上次吃美国菜,我都想跟我离婚了。)
技术主管笑得肩膀直抖。威廉也笑,笑完又拍了拍许文元的肩膀,这回轻了点,像是在拍什么易碎的东西。
"Alright, alright. We'll figure it out. Legal team's gonna draft something. You'll get a call by Monday."
(行,行。我们来弄。法务那边起草协议。你周一等电话。)
许文元点了点头,把档案袋从胳膊底下抽出来,递给他。
"You guys did good today. Not bad for a bunch of suits."
(今天干得不错。一帮穿西装的,还行。)
威廉接过档案袋,手指按在封口处,低头看了一眼,又抬起头。
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