Caught somewhere between impressed and completely irritated, Roger gave an almost-smirk back, complete with eyebrow action. He sized the guy up. Quips were his thing, like Brian, but rugged smartass was his thing like Dean. He sure as fuck didn't do scruffy and surly like Dean, but there was a greasy-haired mystique about him. In a more biblical situation, Roger would be playing cat to his snarky mouse already, but there was something about the distinctively southern swagger that gave Roger serious what-the-fuck-ever.

"What're you gonna do, drown it out with your banjo?" Roger shot back, leaning back on his chair so two of the wheels no longer touched the ground. Low-blow bitch-talking, Roger could do. He was, after all, a musician and a guy who appreciated guys.