He had that secret smile ... that sort of half-laughter that tugs at the corners of your mouth but you are enjoying yourself too much to let others share.

He could see I was my usual bundle-of-nerves self, with my usual yearning to escape any conversation possible -- I had unthinkingly put my hand on the door handle, quite ready to leave when allowed -- yet he played the dummard, asking your usual "so how's it going" questions, all those queries that have ridiculously obvious answers, and delighting himself with my anguish as I answered politely; he was laughing at me.

Fortunately, I was laughing at him too. Thank you, novelty baseball tie. You were so ludicrous I don't know how he let you leave the house around his handsome neck.