"Ohhhhh, well, yes I supposed she would be interested in finding out if those particular things I told the reporter were true. I mean, you are, after all, a perfectly healthy, red blooded m—" Jacques didn't finish, too busy ducking under the thrown metal helmet that sped towards him and lodged itself in the far wall, the bladed wing tips digging into the wood, much to the alarm of a passing patron of the townhouse. Jacques rubbernecked his head through the doorway once more. "You'll still be a good sport about the delivery, right?"