[She turns her head to verify what she suspects of that voice's origins, very much ready to locate any number of loci on his body where Archer can shove his opinions. Instead of opening up her mouth and blasting some Malandro realness, however, she hesitates. Her mouth hangs open slightly and her eyebrows knit together, as if she's thinking something over. The chickens screech in abject misery.]
Fuck if I know. Oi, do I look like a chicken scientist?
[She pauses again, this time to press her arms closer to her sides and grip the chickens more closely.]
no subject
Fuck if I know. Oi, do I look like a chicken scientist?
[She pauses again, this time to press her arms closer to her sides and grip the chickens more closely.]
... 's chips and all that. Birds love that shit.