He isn't a tall man, Desidério Amanza. Slight would be an entirely fair descriptor. When she stands close enough like so, he has to tip his face up if he wishes to scowl very directly at her. So instead of doing that, he first puts his cigarillo out with a habitual tap tap against the dark leather of his belt and—

"What I mean to accomplish? I don't remember you shaking this rumor out of Rossi's pockets." —rummages around in his coat until he secures the silver case into which the mostly smoked cheap cigar can be tucked.

Snap goes the tooth of the case's clip. When sweeping from it up to her face, his eye line is somewhat required to pass across the tops of her breasts where they're swelling up out of her bodice.

"That's what you could be thanking me for."