Things are not improved by Jimmy aimlessly shuffling off to “check a few leads” as soon as they enter the shop.
If you want something done you have to do it yourself, as usual, Ove confirms to himself as he steers his steps alone towards the sales assistant.
And not until Ove roars, “Have you been frontally lobotomized or what?!”
to the young man who’s trying to show him the shop’s range of portable computers does Jimmy come hurrying to his aid.
And then it’s not Ove but rather the shop assistant who needs to be aided.
“We’re together.” Jimmy nods to the assistant with a glance that sort of functions as a secret handshake
to communicate the message, “Don’t worry, I’m one of you!”
The sales assistant takes a long, frustrated breath and points at Ove.
“I’m trying to help him but—” “You’re just trying to fob me off with a load of CRAP, that’s what you’re doing!”
Ove yells back at him without letting him get to a full stop, and menacing him with something he spontaneously snatches off the nearest shelf.
Ove doesn’t quite know what it is, but it looks like a white electrical plug of some sort
and it feels like the sort of thing he could throw very hard at the sales assistant if the need arises.
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