Criswell's reaction is subtle impatience, his dark eyes remaining on Tracey while his two of his slim fingers start to drum a silent rhythm on the tabletop. She said she'd answer, so he doesn't know what she's waiting for. When she asks for clarification, he stiffens and his fingers go still. He thought he'd gotten the point across. He'd even pronounced it clearly and correctly despite the typographical error on the card.

"...Right. For it, against it. Like that."