[ Roman's entire face twists into something that's halfway between a pout and a sneer mixed with a healthy glare. ]

Oh, fuck you, don't use the shit I'm trying to say and turn it against me.

[ And yet here he is, sitting ontop of Raylan's table but carefully slipping off of it with a surprising amount of graceful elegance. Instead of sitting up once his hips are past the table, however, he opts to half melts onto the floor, spring up and spins dramatically to make his way to the door. His knees crack audibly. Roman is unconcerned. ]

Oldest trick in the book, Walker Texas. I see you. And the next time you call me Ru Paul I get a free nard shot.