Nice to hear.
[After a pause, Roman leans, blowing smoke in Amadeo’s face.]
You’ve yet to prove that you’re more than just talk.Â
[He stoically lifts Roman’s leg by the ankle, almost delicately. Then he aims the side of his hand with one hard swipe toward Roman’s throat.]
[Of all things he’d anticipated– attempted leg breaking, mostly– this wasn’t one of them. The swipe catches him hard and sends him flat on his back, but he’s lucky enough not to choke on his cigarette.]
Bastard, [He wheezes painfully, then rolls onto his side and desperately attempts to drive a knee into Amadeo’s face.]
[It lands, and for a moment Amadeo is stunned, mostly out of some kind of mild fear that his glasses are - again - shattered.] Why attack me when you practically asked me to hit you? [He grimaces, picking his bent shades off his nose. The metal had cut sharply into his skin.] Gah. Nico says you were always a bitch. Now I believe him.
[Pleased, Roman picks himself up, sitting upright on the table. He rubs his throat.] Regardless, I don’t take things lying down.
[The corner of his mouth twitches, and he leans, making to grind out his cigarette on Amadeo’s temple.]
Little on the slow side, aren’t we? And here, I thought that’s what you’d liked about me.Â
[Shockingly, Amadeo grimaces in pain and leans away as soon as the cigarette touches his skin, avoiding a more serious burn by a centimeter.]
Look. I do not like you. If Nico wants me to kill you, I'll kill you, but for now... [He studies his glasses.] Eh. You're like a...
A fly. A bitch fly.
