[Twolegs. Well, she's not wrong. It's probably best that Tim's not the kind of person predisposed to laugh. He simply shrugs, and batters at the stack of logs once with the flat of his shoe. The wood rattles up against the floor, issuing an explosion of dust motes.]
[He almost lapses into a fit of coughing, and hastily glances away with his eyes watering.]
no subject
[He almost lapses into a fit of coughing, and hastily glances away with his eyes watering.]
Any luck?