[When she whirls on Kirigan, she'll find him no closer than where he'd stopped. His attention's just come up from the fallen ink, he looks ready to say something—and whatever that something was is summarily abandoned when it registers that she's wielding a pen like she's going to shank him with it. His posture briefly takes on the mildest slouch of exasperation: Really?]
What do you think I'm going to do, exactly? This is a window, not a door. [After a pause,] You really have no idea what you're doing, do you.
no subject
What do you think I'm going to do, exactly? This is a window, not a door. [After a pause,] You really have no idea what you're doing, do you.