Some Guys Have all the Luck

I Heard the Good News

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to the Matrix movies, its characters and anything else.

A/N: To those who like this story, I realize it has been a long time since it’s been updated, but this story has been pretty much abandoned at this point. However, I am not ruling out the possibility of future chapters; I just don’t know when that will happen.

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“I have a few things to do at the office today,” Jones said, wrapping his arms around Lara and holding her close to him. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can and then we can shop for an engagement ring.”

Lara smiled and nestled her head against her fiancé’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Pinch me, Jones,” Lara said as she smiled. “Pinch me so that I know this isn’t a dream.”

“This isn’t a dream, Lara,” Jones said softly as he stared into her eyes. “We really are going to get married. You said yes, remember? I am going to hold you to that. In fact, I’m going to hold you every night for the rest of our lives.”

“You’d better go,” Lara said as she fastened his watch onto his wrist. “Besides, I have to call Celia and tell her the good news--she and Brown don’t know about our engagement yet.” She blushed and giggled when she remembered what had happened between them after Jones’ impromptu and unorthodox marriage proposal on a plane full of gawking witnesses.

On the ride from the airport, he squeezed Lara’s hand and was relieved when she returned the gesture. Back at Jones’ apartment, he and Lara stood staring at one another; each one afraid to say anything that might spoil this moment. Jones swallowed nervously as the silence between them deepened.

Lara’s arms came around his waist and she held him. “Jones, I—” Her fiancé put his finger over her lip to prevent her from saying anything else.

“No, Lara. Don’t say anything. I meant everything I said to you on the plane. I will never hurt you again nor will I allow anyone else to. Ever.”

Without another word between them, they reached for one another hungrily. With their lips still locked in a passionate kiss, Jones backed Lara into the kitchen and effortlessly hoisted her up until she was sitting on the countertop. Standing between her spread knees, he grabbed Lara by the hips and ground his body against hers. Owing to the huge difference in their heights, each of them knew that Jones’ plan on copulating with Lara as she sat on the countertop would not work.

“Perhaps the bedroom?” Lara suggested shyly and Jones needed no further encouragement. Lara wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her into the bedroom.

Jones did not head for the bed. Instead, he pushed Lara until her back was against the door with his weight keeping her in place. A long-ago daydream of Jones possessing her like this raced through Lara’s mind. In her fantasy, Jones had pushed her against a wall and slid his hands upward along her thighs. Just like he was doing now. Lara shivered with anticipation.

Sheer mischievousness took hold of Lara. “I already told you, Agent Jones, I don’t have any information.”

Jones caught on and gladly played along with her game of ‘Female Suspect About to Be Interrogated.’

“That may be the case, but I still have to follow proper procedure and search for any hidden weapons you might be carrying.”

“Uh-oh,” Lara said and pressed her body hard against her future husband. “Will this involve any body cavity searches?”

Jones raised his eyebrow and leered at Lara as he fondled her breasts. “It seems to me that you just might have possession two unauthorized weapons in your blouse, Ms. Rodgers. I have no choice but to investigate further.”

With a growl of lust, Jones ripped Lara’s blouse open, sending buttons in all directions. In her haste to make love with her new fiancé, Lara’s fingers seemed to have lost all of their dexterity as she tried to remove Jones’ tie but her constantly fumbling fingers only succeeded in making her task more difficult. Exasperated, she gave up but reciprocated as best she could by tearing Jones’ shirt open, desperate to feel his skin against her own.

“Now I’ll have to charge you with assaulting an officer of the law and resisting arrest. The penalties will be very severe.”

“Whatever shall poor little me do?” Lara said as she batted her eyes in her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation. “It’s my first time being interrogated. Be gentle with me?”

“Not tonight,” Jones said as he bit down on her lips as he kissed her hard. Lara revelled in this new aspect of Jones’ character revealing itself. Gone was the stoic and impassive man she thought she knew: in its place was a fully aroused male, barely staying in control of his sexual desires. Here was Jones at his most primal. In other words, he wanted nothing more than to fuck her. Hard and fast.

With one hand under Lara’s buttocks to keep her tight against the door, the other was busily trying to undo his belt and unzip his trousers. Lara could not help but giggle as he cursed when he was unsuccessful in either task.

“Is that a Desert Eagle in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Lara said coyly.

“See for yourself,” he ordered, releasing Lara and she quickly went to her knees before him. Jones groaned when he felt her mouth open the button of his fly. Very slowly, she drew the zipper of his pants down with her teeth. Lara chuckled smugly when he moaned as her mouth succeeded in pulling down his shorts enough so that she could nuzzle his groin, her nose buried deep in the coarse hair around his dick. She savoured the masculine scent of his skin and sweat. The sensation of feeling her hot breath against his now-fully erect member made Jones’ head spin.

When he could stand no more, he pulled Lara to her feet, pushed her over onto the bed, and straddled her before she could try to escape, letting her know clearly who was in charge. Lara did not mind in the least--she knew that Jones would never purposefully hurt her and some part of her nature took pleasure in being dominated and controlled.

“That’s quite an impressive weapon,” Lara said as she could not help but stare at Jones’ massive organ.

“It makes my job of intimidating whorish little suspects like you much easier,” he said smugly. His face fell when he saw the hurt expression on Lara’s face. He cursed himself for saying that when he remembered the day when Lara told him about her rape from Smith. He had called a whore too. “Honey, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, Jones. Just don’t say it again, please?” Jones nodded and Lara was determined that Smith was never going to come between them ever again. “But I have to admit that I’m very worried of seeing what it is capable of,” Lara said in convincing wide-eyed innocence, still playing her role, “I certainly would be very afraid if you should want to put it in any part of my body.”

“As well you should. I must start the physical examination immediately. Open your mouth and take me inside so I can ascertain whether or not you are hiding something.”

Lara lay back, enjoying the view of her half-undressed lover with his erect manhood just inches from her face. Jones inched himself forward and Lara eagerly took him into her mouth, her hands cupping his buttocks to draw him closer. After a few delicious moments of feeling him in her mouth and taking him in as far as she could, Lara’s tongue swirled around the massive head of his penis as she began to apply suction. Jones pulled away abruptly, knowing that if he did not, it would not take much effort on Lara’s part to bring him to orgasm.

“No,” he said as he pulled his member from her mouth. “Everything appears to be in order.” Jones did not bother to take off his remaining clothing. He moved down Lara’s body until his mouth was almost touching her outer folds.

“Now I must see if you are hiding anything in here,” he said. Lara arched her back and gasped as he inserted one finger into her wet hole. The woman beneath him moved her hips so that she began to counterthrust against his hand, making him go deeper. He thoroughly enjoyed feeling the heat of Lara’s tight pussy engulf his finger like a glove. Lara was squirming harder and he allowed himself to smile for a moment before lowering his face between her legs again. Lara moaned as he licked and nibbled her sensitive flesh, deliberately ignoring her swollen clit.

“Hmm,” Jones mused thoughtfully after he came up for air. He removed his finger and replaced it with his tongue, making Lara shriek with pleasure. “It seems that I cannot reach very far. I’ll have to use something else to probe you as deep as I would like.”

Lara moaned and said something inarticulate and it was all Jones could do not to break into a malevolent cackle at her excruciatingly high level of arousal.

“Well?” Jones asked. “Do you have anything to add to this interrogation? Some vital bit of information you wish to tell me or shall I continue?”

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Jones slid his tongue along her slit and chuckled to himself as Lara’s body writhed and squirmed in an attempt to get his mouth closer to her pulsating clit. Lara’s hands grabbed him by the hair to keep his mouth and head where she wanted as his tongue brought her closer to her orgasm. Jones winced as he jerked his head out of her grasp, certain that he had left quite a few hairs between her fingers. But he was not finished tormenting her.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to ask of me? I won’t know until you do.”

“Oh God, Agent Jones,” she moaned, still playing her role as the reluctant suspect. “I am going to come soon! Please don’t stop!”

Smiling wolfishly, Jones did exactly the opposite. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to eat me,” Lara panted.

“And what information will you give me if I do as you ask? Tell me what I want to hear or I will cease and desist.”

Ceasing and desisting was the last thing Lara wanted Jones to do at that moment. “I’ve been so bad, so dirty, Agent Jones. I deserved to be fucked into the floor distracting you from your duties and teasing you like I’ve doing.”

“That is very, very true, Ms. Rodgers,” Jones said sternly. “And I intend on punishing you for everything you’ve done to take my mind off of work.” He put his tongue, fingers and lips to their best advantage. Jones held Lara on the cusp of an orgasm for the next twenty-five minutes. The bed beneath her was soaked from her juices and sweat.

When he decided she had had enough, Jones thrust two fingers inside of her pussy and gave her clit a few skilful swipes across her clit and Lara came.

To prevent his full weight from bearing down on Lara and possibly causing her discomfort, Jones positioned himself so that some of his heaviness rested on his elbows. Jones began thrusting into Lara and any thought of apprehension was immediately purged from her mind as she felt him move inside of her. She felt herself being filled; her vagina stretching easily to accommodate his enormous size and Lara groaned with the sheer pleasure of being intimate with the man who would soon become her husband.

Instinctively, she began to counterthrust against him and arched her back as his lips nibbled the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulders.

“You have been bad, the future Mrs. Jones,” he murmured, his green eyes locked on the hazel ones of his fiancée. “You are incorrigible but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

In the throes of her passionate climax, Lara’s hands snaked inside Jones’ shirt and raked her nails down his chest leaving long scratches. Whether it was a subconscious desire to hurt him for breaking up with her or whether it was because of her overwhelming lust, Lara would never know. When they were showering together later, she apologized about the marks she had left on his body, but Jones shrugged it off by saying that while an engagement ring was her symbol of bondage, the scratches on his chest were his.

Lara’s mind was brought to the present when Jones gently chucked her under the chin. “I’ll tell Brown about our engagement when I get to work.”

He gave Lara a kiss and headed out the door. Lara was about to tidy up the kitchen when she noticed that Jones had left his car keys on the counter. A spark of sheer playfulness overcame her and Lara hastily undressed, taking off her jeans and tee shirt and exchanging it for Jones’ white shirt that she had taken to wearing at night since she began living with him.

By the time she was done, Lara heard a knock at the door. Without checking the peephole, she threw the door open wide and struck a seductive pose against the doorframe while twirling Jones’ car keys around her index finger. “Back for more or did you forget something, lover?” she inquired with a sultry tone. “Oh my God!” she shrieked as she saw it was Smith standing in front of her.

“I can’t tell you by saying how many times I’ve heard that exact same statement shrieked in my ear from the many sexual conquests I’ve had during my lifetime, but I do appreciate the reference from you.” Smith smirked and he removed his dark sunglasses, running his gaze over Lara. His eyebrow rose in approval when he saw that Lara was wearing nothing but Jones’ agent-issued white shirt. To make matters even more intriguing, there were no buttons holding her garment fastened. His smile broadened as Lara clutched her shirt closed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard the news about your engagement and came to offer my congratulations,” Smith replied smoothly. His eyes shifted to the bare third finger of her left hand. “I see Jones hasn’t purchased an engagement ring yet. I suppose you will have to wait until Wal-Mart opens before you can get one.”

“Fuck you,” Lara snapped, ignoring Smith’s derogatory remarks about the state of Jones’ finances. “Now if you don’t mind…”

“Not yet,” Smith said, preventing her from closing the door by placing a broad foot between the door and the frame. “I came here to say something else.” When Lara did not rise to the bait and proceeded to only coolly stare at him—periodically slamming the door onto his foot in an attempt to get her unwelcome visitor to leave--Smith tried another approach.

“No doubt you intend to bear the big oaf’s babies, do you not?” This time his statement had the desired effect—Lara could not help herself from inquiring what he meant.

“A baker’s dozen, Smith, not that it is any of your business. Why? Do you care?”

“I don’t. I wouldn’t count on holding his children in your arms or nursing them at those ample breasts anytime soon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What I mean is my two underlings cannot father any offspring. Of the three of us, that privilege has been granted to me. Jones and Brown are only shooting blanks.”

When the implications of his statement became clear, Lara’s face lost all colour and she leaned against the doorframe in an effort to steady herself.

“What?”

Lara would never tell anyone, but it had long been her hope of giving birth to Jones’ children. If Smith was telling the truth for once, that particular dream would never come to fruition. Lara blinked away the urge to cry and listened to what the man she hated most in the Matrix had to say.

“Now that I have your complete attention, I shall explain further. You see, our mother and father decided at the time of my creation that in order to breed superior programs for inclusion into the Matrix, the alpha male of the agents—namely myself—should be the only one capable of procreating. So you see, Lara,” Smith said, edging closer, “if you wish to be a mother of an agent’s child, I am your only viable choice for that’s baby’s father.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lara said hoarsely, her hand clenched into a fist over her heart. It can’t be true; Smith is lying. He has to be. But what if he isn’t, a small part of Lara’s mind argued. What if he is telling the truth?

“I don’t care if you believe me or not. I just thought you should know the true facts of the matter,” Smith shrugged carelessly. He gave Lara an evil leer, raking his gaze over her semi-clad body. “If after years of marriage with Jones, you still yearn to be a mother, come to me and I will be happy to assist you in realizing your dream.”

Lara raised her chin and stared Smith in the face. “I’d rather be dead than give birth to any thing of yours!” She watched as rage turned Smith’s eyes into orbs of ice-cold steel.

“You little bitch; you’ll be crawling on your hands and knees begging for my forgiveness by the time I’m done with you!” He raised his hand to strike Lara for her cruel remark but suddenly felt himself being yanked backward and held against the wall with his arm twisted behind his back.

“That’s my future wife you were going to hit, Smith,” Jones said, his anger all the more formidable because of his calm demeanour. “Lara? Are you alright?” Jones asked anxiously as he tightened his grip on Smith to prevent his weasel of a supervisor from slithering away.

“I’m OK.”

“Close the door, lock it behind you and do not, do not open it until I tell you to, do you understand?” Jones demanded.

“No Jones, you don’t understand! But he said…I need to know more, I can’t just--”

“Don’t argue with me, just do it!” Jones snapped and without a word, Lara obeyed. When Jones heard the deadbolt slide home, he turned his attention back to Smith. “You and I have business to discuss, Smith, and I think the garage is the perfect place. Now move.”

It didn’t take the two agents long to reach the underground parking garage located directly below Agent Jones’ apartment building. Smith had his hands raised in mock surrender as he allowed his subordinate to push him out of the service elevator into the concrete maze of the garage’s lower levels.

At this time of the day, the garage was almost completely deserted save for the few vehicles parked here and there. For the time being, Jones had all the privacy he needed to finally confront a superior who had abused the power entrusted to him for far too long.

Clamping his large hands onto Smith’s slim shoulders, Agent Jones roughly turned the lead agent around to face him. When he saw the arrogant leer on Agent Smith’s face, Jones’ own features twisted up into a scowl of anger and hate.

With no desire to mince words with the smug, arrogant Smith, Jones went straight to the heart of the matter. “What are you doing here, Smith, and what did you say to Lara?”

Smith shrugged himself out of Jones’ hold on him, and then sidestepped away from his reach before giving his reply. “I told her nothing but the truth. I heard the good news about your engagement to Ms. Rodgers.” Smith’s tone sounded innocent and friendly, much too friendly for Jones’ liking, for he knew better. “I only dropped by to congratulate the both of you and to offer my services. Ask her—she’ll tell you. As a matter of fact, she tried to before you ordered her to obey you and close the door.”

Smith’s emphasis on the last sentence of his statement did not bode well with Agent Jones. His green eyes narrowed suspiciously behind the dark barrier of his sunglasses, as he balled up his hands into tightly clenched fists.

“We do not require anything from you! Now if you don’t want things to get physical between us, Agent Smith, I suggest that you leave these premises immediately and never come back!” At this point, Jones was seething with rage, but he tried to contain it as best he could.

Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, Smith scoffed at his underling. “Is that a threat, Agent Jones? I hope for your sake it wasn’t! Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking? To I am the lead agent and your superior! It’s obvious that you’ve had a lapse in memory or you wouldn’t dare be so insubordinate! Remember, Jones, that I hold all of the cards. The fate of your little whore rests in my hands and my hands alone! All I have to do is give the nod, and Father will sign the order for her deletion!”

Smith’s words were the final straw. After so many decades of being under his thumb, enduring his belittling criticism, the cruel remarks around the office and being passed over for promotions that he rightly earned and deserved, something inside Agent Jones just snapped.

Moving so fast that his actions were a blur, Jones’ hand swiftly shot out allowing his powerful fingers to wrap themselves around Smith’s scrawny neck. Next, Jones lifted Smith approximately three feet off the ground, and then slammed his boss against a concrete post.

“And you have forgotten that although I may not be the fastest of agents, I am still the strongest. I could crush your windpipe right now as if it were an empty beer can, you fucking arrogant prick! You will stay away from Lara, or I will take great pleasure in taking you apart, circuit by circuit, you miserable piece of corrupted software!” Jones was so angry that spittle flew from his clenched teeth onto Smith, who flinched when he felt the offensive matter fly into his face.

Although Smith was starting to wheeze for oxygen, he managed to come up with a witty rejoinder. “That’s tough talk coming from someone that will soon be putting a bullet between Ms. Rodgers lovely hazel eyes. The minute I leave here, I’ll be paying the Architect a visit.”

It was Jones’ turn to gloat. “Newsflash: I’ve spoken to Father about Lara and he will not sign any order of deletion that you place in front him, not now, not ever! Furthermore, if you harm her or her mother in any way or even go near them, you will regret it!”

Much to Agent Smith’s chagrin, Jones was right about one thing: his Herculean strength was unmatched and it was becoming worrisome. The more Smith struggled to free himself from Jones’ grip, the tighter his subordinate squeezed. To make matters worse, there was no human or program nearby to claim as his Host. He had no choice: he had to break Jones’ grip at all costs.

Even though Jones obviously has superior strength, I have something he does not: the brains and intelligence he will never possess even if he lives for another two hundred years. I obviously can’t break his grip on my neck, but I know a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat. If I have to resort to it, I will ignore the rules of engagement and hit the big oaf right where he lives. Below the belt. As hard as he could, Smith drove his knee into Jones’ groin causing the larger man stumble back in agony and out of reach. Smith dropped to the ground, took several deep breaths, and rubbed his neck to ease his discomfort.

Smith smirked as he watched Jones grimace in agony before standing up to his full height and walk back toward him. I will say this for him, Smith thought with reluctant admiration, he certainly doesn’t give up easily.

Any other thoughts left Smith’s head as he felt his head snap to the side from the effect of a powerful right hook. But his adversary did not stop there. Jones rained a flurry of blows to Smith’s head, stomach, and chest that would have killed a human being.

Smith stumbled backward out of reach of Jones’s formidable fists to get a respite, however brief. However, Jones followed doggedly, determined to teach his boss a lesson or two. He knew it was only a matter of time before the tables were turned in Smith’s favour and he sought to do as much damage as possible to Smith’s lean form.

Whatever the cost, Jones was determined to pay Smith back for everything he had done; not only to himself but more importantly, the violation of Lara. If you hadn’t laid your dirty hands on her, Jones seethed inwardly, we would have been dating one another long before the delay from the stalled elevator.

Jones looked at his hands and saw his opponent’s blood smeared across his knuckles and sneered at Smith. Keeping Smith’s gaze locked with his, Jones stuck his tongue out and licked the blood from one hand. Smith saw in Jones’ eyes an expression that had never been there before: bloodlust.

Without being told, Smith knew he was in for it—big time. Now that Jones had drawn and tasted first blood in their engagement, he wanted more. Like a predator who sensed that its prey was wounded, he paced back and forth in front of Smith, trying to determine the best plan of attack.

But before he could proceed, he heard a clicking in his earpiece and pressed his finger against it to hear better. By Smith’s movements, he had received the same message.

“Both of you stop this, right now!” The Architect was beside himself with rage. “How dare two of my lead agents brawl in public like a couple of boys in a schoolyard, fighting over the affections of a girl? I want your asses in my office in five minutes!”

He hung up with such force that both Jones and Smith winced. The alpha agent watched as Jones took his earpiece between his fingers and crushed it.

“We have five minutes.”

Smith nodded. “We will not need any longer than that to settle this matter for the time being, don’t you think?”

“Agreed.”

Like two stags about to attack, both circled each other and when the opportunity presented itself, they charged.

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Exactly five minutes later, Jones and Smith stood outside the door to the Architect’s office. Smith turned the door handle, flinched at the pain of the effort, and allowed Jones to pass ahead of him, before closing the door behind them.

The Architect tapped his pen with impatience on the polished surface of his stainless-steel desk. With one quick glance, he scrutinized the attire of the two agents standing in front of him.

“The next time I ask for either of you to appear before me, you will do so immaculately attired, is that clear?”

“You only gave us five minutes, Father. You obviously are not aware that it takes more than the time you gave us to appear presentable—”

“Silence!” the Architect barked, throwing his pen down angrily and glaring at Smith, who had been the one to speak. “I will do the talking here, not you, so shut up until I ask you to speak!” Taking a deep breath, the older man forced himself to be calm in the presence of his two sons. “Look at you both! Your hair is in disarray. Your glasses are broken and to make matters worse, both of you are bleeding onto your suits. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“We had a disagreement, sir. That was all.”

“All? ALL?” In an apoplectic fit of sheer, unadulterated rage, the Architect’s face was now turning a mottled purple and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He slammed his fist onto his desk. “I never want to hear or see you two fighting with each other again, is that clear? What I want you both to do is to shake hands—before me, here and now—and that will be the end of the bad blood between you. Do it.”

Jones and Smith eyed one another with distrust. Jones’ jaw dropped when Smith extended his hand out to him. The urge to snap his wrist like a twig came and went through Jones’ mind. Slowly, grudgingly, aware that the Architect was diligently watching his every move, Jones put forth his hand as well.

It wasn’t until their hands met in a handshake that Jones realized what Smith’s true intentions were. And it wasn’t forgiveness or friendship by any means. Smith squeezed his rival’s hand with as much force as he was able. To an outside observer, Smith’s face was bland and noncommittal—the perfect picture of a man who was willing to let bygones be bygones.

Two can play at that game, Jones thought and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Smith and increased the pressure of his own vice-like squeeze.

Both men flinched when pain shot up to their neural sensors, warning of imminent bone fracture. The fragile bones in the human hand can only take so much pressure before succumbing to the inevitable. The breakage occurred in the two men almost simultaneously, with three fingers being broken in Smith’s hand while Jones suffered two.

“No hard feelings, Agent Jones?” Smith asked smoothly, and only by looking into his eyes was Jones able to tell he was in excruciating agony. The pain was intense, but none of that registered on his face. His expression was as stone-like as always.

“None at all, Agent Smith,” Jones replied, following Smith’s example of not allowing one iota of the pain he was feeling to show in any way.

From behind his desk, the Architect frowned. “Enough. Both of you leave my office now and report to the Infirmary. When you are done, come back here for we have another matter to discuss. I have half a mind to just let you two stand here with your broken hands and watch to see who gives in to the pain first. But this matter will need all of your undivided attention and I don’t have time for your little macho games. Go.”

At the Infirmary, both agents were injected with a serum that would accelerate the healing process for their injuries. They would be as good as new in a matter of minutes. While they were changing into clean, freshly pressed suits, they glared at one another. This matter between them was not resolved, not would it be the end of their hatred for one another. Not by a long shot.

“Take your seats,” the Architect instructed them. When they did so, he continued. “There is a captain of a rebel ship called the Nebuchadnezzar. His name is Morpheus.”

“How did we get this information?” asked Jones.

“A member of the crew who goes by the name of Cipher betrayed him. He wants to be re-inserted into the Matrix. I have met with him and promised that he will get what he wants in exchange for information. He will come to me tomorrow. When he gets here, I want the two of you here as well. That’s it for now. Until I call for you, I don’t want to see either of you again. Dismissed.”

However, just before the two agents could leave the Architect called them back. “Before you go, two more things: Lara Rodgers will return to work if she so desires without provocation or intimidation from you, Smith. Second, congratulations on your engagement, Jones.” He looked over the faces of his sons and saw that both were red, but because of two very different reasons; Smith’s, with suppressed rage at being thwarted while Jones was suppressing an uncharacteristic blush, a small smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth which threatened to spoil his usual poker-face expression.