[ Jim lets her finger trace his jaw only so far before he snatched her wrist. The grip of his hand tighten with every passing second, and he slowly twists her arm to the side, wrenching it away from his face. ]

Given you're on the side with the angels? Far too nice for my tastes.

[ He relinquishes his hold on her as he slides back with the chair, but he's just as quickly standing. This is a spider's game, after all, and he was done playing nice with this particular black widow. ]

Tell me, Miss Adler—[ he approaches her, stepping next to the chair. ]—How has your little crush gone?

[ A hand reaches to the back of Irene's perfectly sculpted bouffant, grabbing a handful of her hair close to the scalp and slowly pulling her head back to expose her delicate neck. Moriarty leans close, hovering his lips less than an inch from her ear. ]

That was not our agreement. I will have you killed for this. Mark. My. Words.