[The pouring of tea and delicate clinking of china raises every hair on the nape of his neck, his spine going ramrod-straight. Alfred may just be baiting him to talk – and Oswald is just as pissed by what he’s oh-so matter of factly telling him as he is by the fact that it’s working.]
...Excuse me? [He demands, his voice low and raw.]
no subject
...Excuse me? [He demands, his voice low and raw.]