/She smiles a sharp, contempt-filled smile./ Need I tell you what happens to Spies who meddle with Pyros? Spies who think they can’t be touched?
They burn faster than flash paper.
*Her eyes narrow into slits, mouth drawn in grim line.*
I would tell you what ‘appens to people who mess weeth me, but I doubt you’ve forgotten what ‘appened last time we ‘ad a…. disagreement.
How could I.
/Her eyes are like venom./
Your gift-giving skills are impressive, but that does little to butter me up. You won’t be reverse-psychology-ing me.