<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/0d06/edp7l4ylbdz97uv6g.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Ari Warcaof </span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Businessman <br/>(of sorts) </span></strong></div></div></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">That’s a stunning ask, to visit her top facility and see for myself.  “Your passion paints quite the picture.  Once this fiasco is over, my next step is onto the beach of your facility.  Sounds refreshing.” <br/><br/>I look to U.  “Is it possible for you and Junior to check with the bartender to see if a room might be reserved here?  A conversation for, let us say 30, maybe 40 minutes.”<br/><br/>U raises his eyebrow questioningly,  I nod, he nods back and rises along with Junior.  They’re gone.  Peter is clutching his drink, verily strangling it.<br/></span>