I'm not arguing. [Says Henry Creel, arguing.] It's a compliment, coming from me.
[That someone might defy his expectations, because those expectations are often unyielding, and always unflattering.
But even he lets out something that sounds like a sigh, lowering the handkerchief to see the blood blotted across it. His nose, at least, has stopped its trickle.]
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[That someone might defy his expectations, because those expectations are often unyielding, and always unflattering.
But even he lets out something that sounds like a sigh, lowering the handkerchief to see the blood blotted across it. His nose, at least, has stopped its trickle.]
...You need to put ice on that.
[By the way. That bruise of hers.]