Allen code-switches to street Clovennian when he speaks in all-lower-case text
Henri coaxed a good laugh out of his brother at the idea of him growing tits and waltzing around in a dress. "it'd take more'n a decent rack an' a nice dress to make me hope for a nurse with your ugly mug," he teased as he grated two potatoes over a cutting board.
"yea, fred told me what went down. it's a load of shit. i'm lucky she's here, though. can't imagine how we'd get through all this if ol' Caron was still in the office." Allen grimaced. "lazy sack of trash." He accepted the cigarette, took a long drag, and nodded his appreciation. Then he blew the smoke out the single kitchen window beside the stove, which only opened a few inches thanks to a crack in the glass.
With Henri taking care of the coffee, it was time for Allen to take the hash off the heat and start on the potatoes. As he heated a second cast-iron pan, he rinsed the excess starch out of the shredded potatoes, then dumped them out onto a dish towel to mop up the excess water. Once the pan was hot, he slapped a good lump of butter in, letting it come to a sizzle before turning the contents of the dish towel out into the pan to brown and crisp. He tossed the wet dish towel over his bare right shoulder and knocked some ash from his cigarette out into the sink.
"reckon u got my note last night?" he asked, as if the stress of what he'd do about the ladies coming to lunch at his flat today hadn't given him an upset stomach all evening. Or maybe that was just the laudanum, still.