Draped in the oversized coat Wen had given him, Xarion hung limply off Rory like a half-dead man.
At Nix's praise, he lifted his eyelids and replied with a listless drag in his voice: "Who's cursing? I didn't curse at all; I was just reasoning, speaking facts…"
With a scoff of cynical amusement, he muttered, "Clearly, that old fossil's heart is smaller than a needle's eye—he couldn't handle the truth, got flustered out of rage, and struck me with lightning just like that. Didn't I just say he wasn't up to snuff? Look at his reaction; it's obvious I hit right on the nail and struck a guilty nerve—"
Seeing that Xarion was about to launch into another round of tirades, Rory's eyelid twitched. Moving with lightning speed, she reached out and slapped her hand straight over his mouth.
With his mouth covered, Xarion blinked down at Rory with an expression of pure, injured innocence.
"My dear ancestor, can you please say a little less?!"
