"I hear everyt'ing!" he snarls, wavin' the guns and glarin' at us. "I hear everyt'ing!"
The Kid looks at the guns and coughs, kinda nervous. I was glancin' at friend Tony, myself.
"Ain't that nice!" I remarks, feelin' my way carefully.
"What you mean?" snarls the ex-"No spika da Engleesh."
"Bein' able to hear everything," I explains, thinkin' to humour him. "I'll bet right now you're listenin' to a little spicy scandal at some King's palace, eh?"
"Don't got funny!" he warns me.
"Ha! ha!" snickers the Kid. "Where d'ye get that got funny stuff?"
"What'sa that?" yells Tony, whirlin' on him and shovin' the guns under his nose.
The Kid gets pale and shuffles back a few steps.
"No spika da Engleesh!" he pipes, holdin' up his hand.