Graham banged his fist angrily on the table. A couple at the next table scowled at him but looked away when he glared back at them.
The old Monsieur le Président, who had presided so long in his own way at the top, shouted and banged his fist before leaving the room.
What he was doing - when that crazy mare put three fucking bullets in him. Go on, call them. He banged his fist down on the table and glared at Kellerman.