"I will kill him. With a knife." Roman's eyes narrowed as she violently emptied ketchup atop a platter of french fries, all the while adding an even higher concentration of hatred to an already an impressive glare. One Dashiell Knight has been making faces from afar anytime she looked at him - various combinations of eyebrow waggling and tongue-stick-outing were employed - and Roman was at wits end.
"Impossible," Winona piped in, speaking around the pen cap being held between her lips. She didn't even bother looking up from her frantic scribbling in the margins of some unnecessarily thick anthology, "You possess neither a knife nor a will to kill."
"Shut up." Roman maintained eye contact with her eternal tormentor. She swore afterwards that she had caught a brief glimpse into the black heart of Satan himself. An understandable suspicion considering the fact that he remained undaunted by her less-than-amiable g