The thing with Cohen is he’s not a yeller. When he’s mad, he doesn’t lash out irrationally and stomp around, flinging his arms about, making a true show of his anger. No, he’s the scary type of angry. The kind that bottles it up and slowly, ever so slowly, lets it out, like the steam trying to fit through the tiny spout of a kettle. His chest puffs—which I think comes from him consuming the anger—his eyes turn pure black and widen, like some freaky character in The Witcher, and there’s this tiny vein that runs parallel to his left eyebrow that all of a sudden makes itself known and starts
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