He stepped back with exaggerated courtesy. But when I walked past him, he swatted my rump. Hard enough to sting. “You need to be more careful,” he growled. “Keep interfering in my business and you might get hurt. ” I said sweetly as I continued to Jesse's room, “The last man who swatted me like that is rotting in his grave. ” “I have no doubt about it. ” His voice was more satisfied then contrite.
The confident artist is a fool.