Transcription

[[D.C. Smythe turns to leave, holstering his gun under his trench coat. Fooker steps forward, challenging him.]]
Fooker: You know, you look vaguely familiar...
Smythe: I'm afraid that, if you don't have the information I need, we have little time to get acquainted.

[[Fooker raises a finger in an attempt to prevent Smythe from leaving. Sharon and Trudy flank him.]]
Fooker: You remind me of an MI6 guy I ran into in Mosul once...
Smythe: I'm sure you must be mistaken...
Fooker: Come to think of it, his name was Smythe too. Big Brit, eye...

[[Smythe turns, interrupting Fooker.]]
Smythe: Look, I have a terrorist to catch, so if you'll just...
[[He stops, realizing that the others seem locked in the same position as they were in the previous panel.]]
Smythe: [Thinking] Frozen...?

[[As Fooker, Sharon, and Trudy remain frozen in the same position, a voice off-panel interrupts. It has a familiar red border....]]
Voice: Just on "pause", I assure you. I'm afraid you and I need to have a private little chat.
[[Smythe apparently recognizes the voice, as his expression shifts to one of resigned annoyance.]]