The volley

I'm deposing an angry reluctant witness who is trying to be on good behavior.  I could rip him to shreds but that won't help the case so I refrain.  I need him to help me rip someone else later.  He is probably a little older than me.  A self made man who's  worth millions.  He reminds me of Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men" with all of his pent up fury and rigid bearing.  Beyond the touch of a mere mortal - enter me.  He wants to leave, but I keep him there   I know he wants to lose his temper and he knows I know he wants to lose his temper.  He tries not too.  His hands crossed firmly around the front of his body, he tries to stare me down.  But I've always been good at not blinking.  Plus, I decide to abandon my outline, I know this all by heart anyway.  So we stare at each other.  Eyeball to eyeball.  Sometimes he flushes.  Sometimes his eyes evade mine only to return.  Back and forth we go.  I have the exhibits below the table so he can't quite see how many they are.  One after the other they come.  He won't give an inch.  He won't ask how much longer.  He's not going to blink.  But in the end he knows, I've gotten what I need.