Cecil continues not to take Kevin's hand. Pointedly.
"It may be, Kevin, that you have heard me speak." The words fit a casual meeting, more or less, but his tone is an open declaration of war. "It may be that you have switched your radio on and heard my voice, moving through air and wire and flesh to your ears. It may be that I have spoken to you at length, and never known that you were listening."
By the end, every word is loud and measured and aimed with precision, and Cecil's narrowed eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the black pits in Kevin's face. "I--! ...am a radio host. And I am not a fan of yours, Kevin. Not in the slightest."
no subject
"It may be, Kevin, that you have heard me speak." The words fit a casual meeting, more or less, but his tone is an open declaration of war. "It may be that you have switched your radio on and heard my voice, moving through air and wire and flesh to your ears. It may be that I have spoken to you at length, and never known that you were listening."
By the end, every word is loud and measured and aimed with precision, and Cecil's narrowed eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the black pits in Kevin's face. "I--! ...am a radio host. And I am not a fan of yours, Kevin. Not in the slightest."