“It looked good,” I say irritably. “You always look good. You know that.” I hold up a hand before he can gloat. “But if you ever use my words against me, I will personally cut all your hair off myself. Got it?” His smug, infuriating smile falters, but only for a second. In the sort of exaggerated, too-deep voice you only ever hear in the theaters, he replies, “Whatever you say, my love.”
