"Bravo," Tom hooted approvingly. "Killer bunnies? Classic. The Monty Python boys are geniuses." With the cigarette gone, he was at a loss for what to do with his spindly fingers. After a few seconds of fidgeting, Tom laid the right hand on his knee to mirror the posture of his other arm. He was good at 'still and patient' when such things were necessary, but when he had the liberty to move he liked to move.
"I don't sing." He admitted. "Not only is it ear-splitting, but I feel like it would damage my credibility." The comment was followed by a snort. "My solemn honor as a lurker-under-stairs. I've got my pride." Except that he didn't - even as Tom was puffing up his shoulders to emphasize that he was (in fact) a tough guy, he'd gone back to whistling the Python tune under his breath.
He stopped abruptly. "So how's the sideshow tent?"