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From the novel Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer...
A boy and his giant butler (named Domivoi Butler) are in a Vietnamese teahouse...
WTF are kids reading these days... later in the book, the Butler performs a perfect Mozambique drill with the Sig, but wouldn't you have it, 9mm AP is not enough to pierce troll skulls. My newphew reads it for gnomes, goblins, elves, sprites and fairies, but I may just start reading this to see how good Mr. Butler is.
A boy and his giant butler (named Domivoi Butler) are in a Vietnamese teahouse...
"More tea, sirs?" he asked, head bobbing furiously.
Artemis sighed. "Spare me the theatrics, and sit down."
The waiter turned instinctively to Butler, who was after all, the adult.
"But, sir, I am the waiter."
Artemis tapped the table for attention.
"You are wearing handmade loafers, a silk shirt, and three gold signet rings. Your English has a tinge of Oxford about it, and your nails have the soft sheen of the recently manicured. You are not a waiter. You are our contact Nguyen Xuan, and you have adopted this pathetic disguise to discreetly check for weaponry."
Nguyen's shoulders sagged. "It is true. Amazing."
"Hardly. A ragged apron does not a waiter make."
Nguyen sat, pouring some mint tea into a tiny china cup.
"Let me fill you in on the weapons status," continued Artemis. "I am unarmed. But Butler here, my . . . ah . . . butler, has a Sig Sauer in his shoulder holster, two shuriken and two throwing knives in his boots, a Deringer two-shot pistol up his sleeve, steel garrotte wire in his watch, and three stun grenades concealed in various pockets. Anything else, Butler?"
"The cosh (blackjack), sir."
"Oh, yes. A good old ball bearing cosh (sap) stuffed down his shirt."
Nguyen brought the cup trembling to his lips.
"Don't be alarmed, Mister Xuan." Artemis smiled. "The weapons will not be used on you."
Nguyen didn't seem reassured.
"No," continued Artemis. "Butler could kill you a hundred different ways without the use of his weapons. Though I'm sure one would be quite sufficient."
Artemis sighed. "Spare me the theatrics, and sit down."
The waiter turned instinctively to Butler, who was after all, the adult.
"But, sir, I am the waiter."
Artemis tapped the table for attention.
"You are wearing handmade loafers, a silk shirt, and three gold signet rings. Your English has a tinge of Oxford about it, and your nails have the soft sheen of the recently manicured. You are not a waiter. You are our contact Nguyen Xuan, and you have adopted this pathetic disguise to discreetly check for weaponry."
Nguyen's shoulders sagged. "It is true. Amazing."
"Hardly. A ragged apron does not a waiter make."
Nguyen sat, pouring some mint tea into a tiny china cup.
"Let me fill you in on the weapons status," continued Artemis. "I am unarmed. But Butler here, my . . . ah . . . butler, has a Sig Sauer in his shoulder holster, two shuriken and two throwing knives in his boots, a Deringer two-shot pistol up his sleeve, steel garrotte wire in his watch, and three stun grenades concealed in various pockets. Anything else, Butler?"
"The cosh (blackjack), sir."
"Oh, yes. A good old ball bearing cosh (sap) stuffed down his shirt."
Nguyen brought the cup trembling to his lips.
"Don't be alarmed, Mister Xuan." Artemis smiled. "The weapons will not be used on you."
Nguyen didn't seem reassured.
"No," continued Artemis. "Butler could kill you a hundred different ways without the use of his weapons. Though I'm sure one would be quite sufficient."
WTF are kids reading these days... later in the book, the Butler performs a perfect Mozambique drill with the Sig, but wouldn't you have it, 9mm AP is not enough to pierce troll skulls. My newphew reads it for gnomes, goblins, elves, sprites and fairies, but I may just start reading this to see how good Mr. Butler is.
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