He knows, even without turning around, who it is who's going to be standing there behind him. The voice isn't the same, but that stupidly cheerful tone is one he'd know anywhere. Slowly Wolfwood turns, his already angry expression souring even further at the sight of that bullseye target of a red coat.

How many of this asshole are there on this damn planet?!

"You know what?" No greeting, no introductions, just a wave of his hand at the lightly steaming, very dead car behind him. What's the worst that he can do, break it more? Tell Wolfwood good things about himself? Try to hug him? Fucking try it, Red. "Knock yourself out."