[Speaking of smoke, Spy goes into his jumpsuit to find his box of cigarettes and lights up, relishing in the opportunity to occupy his mouth and his hands. The bristling has returned full force, his shoulders taut with indignation.]
I don't see what all t'is commotion is about. It's my face. You 'ave one, too, t'ough much less 'andsome t'an mine.
[While his expression is calm, the underlying snarl in his tone betrays his words.]
no subject
I don't see what all t'is commotion is about. It's my face. You 'ave one, too, t'ough much less 'andsome t'an mine.
[While his expression is calm, the underlying snarl in his tone betrays his words.]