So, Mr Blankfein calls me late last night:
'Michael, we gotta talk. (Okay, Lloyd. What you want to talk about?) That friend of yours, this fucking punk, who's trying to muscle in on our operation. (You mean Bobby?) Yeah. Bobby. Bobby Diamond. (I straightened him out already. You didn't hear?) I hear a lot of things, Mikey. I heard you and Bobby are real close. Practically holding hands on the friggin' astral plane. It don't look good. (Don't worry about it, Lloyd.) Because you know, if you can't handle the situation, I'll have to send someone over. (Who?) Viniar. (Jesus, Lloyd. Viniar is a fucking animal. Don't you think you're overreacting a little bit?) Well, take care of the situation. (I have, Lloyd. I told Bobby he ain't got no business making BarCap the biggest investment bank in the world. And he listened. He's a good kid. He respects you, Lloyd.) He doesn't respect anyone. He's making me look bad in front of certain people. You tell him I don't care how colourful he thinks he is. He messes with us again, he'll be gone. (He understands that, Lloyd.) So, how are you, Mike? (I'm good.) Still doing the peyote? (No, I'm off that shit now, Lloyd.) I'm glad to hear it. We can't use you if you're all fucked up. (I know that, Lloyd.) Give my love to the ghosts.'
Well, it's all sorted, hopefully. And I gave his love to the ghosts.