Round Three: Fight!

Fernando was helping a customer when the phone rang. Since he couldn't very well ditch to check the caller ID, he scoops the phone from its cradle. “Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

“Yes, is this Fern?” It is a woman's voice, the kind of woman's voice which is heard in stereotypical noir scenes, sultry and ephemeral like wisps of jasmine-scented incense floating in a dimly lit room.
“May I ask who is calling?”
“This is Kuwait, calling from Turtlefoot Enterprises. We just thought we'd call and check in with you to see how things are going. Business is doing alright?”

Ah, Turtlefoot Enterprises. It had been nearly a year since Fernando had last bandied with them, but the contact-person at the time had been Supreme Salesman Kevin. Mild curiosity piqued as to why Fernando spoke with a sexy-voiced woman, but he was not so curious as to be baited into a conversation he didn't want to have. “Things are well enough. I shan't complain.”

“Well, good. That's good. The weather has been alright there?”
“The weather has been unseasonal here,” replies Fernando. “But, listen, I don't want to take up any more of your time. You still aren't a fit for me, so I'm still uninterested.”
“Oh, I understand. Well, if you change your mind you've got my number and you can give me a call most any time and I'd be glad to help.” Kuwait says this with a throaty chuckle.
“Excellent. Good day.” Fernando hangs up.
“Who was that?” asks the customer, one of Fernando's regulars.
“People trying to sell me something using a fun new tactic. Unfortunately for them, I had my emotional centers surgically removed so I am unaffected by appeals to my baser instincts.”

And so the communications freeze between the Dominion and Turtlefoot Enterprises resumed, only for it to break some time later like two horribly compatible people who only tolerate one another for the occasional sex-romp.