Don't you speak other languages?

[Roman takes his cigarette. Because it's only a cigarette not an indirect contact of mouth to mouth. A deep, grateful inhale one he savors as he pulls out of the parking space and gets to the road. He nods in reply until he is completely spent of the smoke.]

Your window of refusal is shrinking. We're going. Unless you want a fucking burger or something to bring in for yourself.

[God he thinks he's a riot sometimes.]