The men of the world are truly missing out. [he says, then makes a silent call me gesture with a snort of immature laughter. archer puts his hand on her upper arm like he had when she was certain she was going to be beheaded by the yakuza, giving it one pat before deciding he can't be bothered to do more. it's not often they can relax like this.] Fuck knows, Poovey. They probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference between me and him, despite the fact one of us fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

[...]

It's your bargain bin Dick Tracy that did that, not me. I'm beautiful. Narcissus wishes he could have what I do.