[Smiley curses inwardly; he is getting old, giving away too much of himself, he is sure. Perhaps it's this that reminds him of Karla—that and his interlocutor's unassuming stature. He feels a sudden anger, an urge now to not buckle.]
If one is lucky it is, I daresay. Quicker than a spider's venom—though not so quick as an explosion.
no subject
If one is lucky it is, I daresay. Quicker than a spider's venom—though not so quick as an explosion.