"Damn it!" Cliff snapped. "I forgot I'm out of cigarettes! I smoked the last one minutes ago!" his eyebrows knotted.
Dobby snapped back. "And you were getting that nasty stuff in my lungs, arsehole!" pointedly insolent.
Cliff glanced back at Dobby. "You're the bad one in the group, aren't you? The tough guy—the moody, doesn't-give-a-shit guy?"
Dobby simply averted his eyes. He saw the man's glare and yielded. He didn't dare counterattack.
"I thought so…"
Tristan took a right turn, veering the car to the right, smiling. "Dobby can be cold, but he can also be so warm at times. He doesn't give a shit, he's really, really rude. You're gonna have to get used to him."
Jin asked, "Used to him? That stranger's staying with us?"
"Yeah," Tristan glimpsed at the mirror, "for a long, long time—whether you like it or not. He said he'd explain himself to you when he gets the chance."
Jin leaned forward and looked at Cliff. "Hey, guy? Don't you have the chance to explain yourself … now?"
