[ Why would he spit? Even for a turn of phrase, it makes no sense. But Konzen stares for a moment at the table, the dirt already on it, and the shelf above that this odd man is trying to clean. Well, he supposes the harm is already done. The table has to be cleaned, anyway. And Konzen hates to see a half-assed job.
He sets his mop aside and climbs up onto the table. ]
Gimme that.
[ He holds out his hand expectantly for the feather duster. ]
no subject
He sets his mop aside and climbs up onto the table. ]
Gimme that.
[ He holds out his hand expectantly for the feather duster. ]