The idea of King and Nenshi sitting there at a table, shirt sleeves rolled up, beads of sweat pouring down their faces. Ashtrays full of cigarette butts, dried coffee rings dotting pages and pages of financial, architectural and environmental records. The room stagnant from 12 intense hours of blow by blow negotiation. A lone fan in the corner of the room casts a rotating shadow upon the two men. With a furry, they explode and nearly come to blows, all their hard fought for negotiation out the window. A deal within a hairs-breath of completion scuttled by two monstrous egos. A good deal torn asunder. If only it weren't for those monstrous egos!
It reads like bad movie.
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