[For the record, Alois has a very practiced and fantastic expression of disgust. Somehow it suits his fine features well, as though he is too delicate and wonderful to witness something so repulsive, whatever he's looking at. He makes that face often in the Carnival, and very often at Silver. He's starting to make it now, every part of his face working to produce that pure and profound portrayal of disgust, until...
Silver's whispered words totally take the wind out of Alois' sails. He doesn't stand a chance against whatever they mean—not that he's going to actually explain their effect on him—and he skitters backward a couple of steps, shoulders raising like a house cat's hackles. He's going red.]
It's like you're asking me to give in and lick you. You great dog worrier...
[Despite his talk (however much Silver understands; Alois is retreating into his native Victorian), he's uncomfortable to the point of losing his fight.]
no subject
Silver's whispered words totally take the wind out of Alois' sails. He doesn't stand a chance against whatever they mean—not that he's going to actually explain their effect on him—and he skitters backward a couple of steps, shoulders raising like a house cat's hackles. He's going red.]
It's like you're asking me to give in and lick you. You great dog worrier...
[Despite his talk (however much Silver understands; Alois is retreating into his native Victorian), he's uncomfortable to the point of losing his fight.]