Normally, Jim's all for a good explosion. Then again, normally the explosions that garner his enthusiasm happen on purpose. Also, they usually don't occur in his kitchen.
"You're eating my toast"
The man sitting at Jim's kitchen table smirks and continues chewing. He doesn't respond to the deathstare being thrown across the room.
Jim tries again.
"Why are you eating my toast"
Jim, understandably, is very angry. Yesterday, before slipping into bed, he had programmed the toaster (Jim is very good with computers, there's a reason why his IT disguise worked so well) to start heating the bread at precisely 6:15. That way, by the time he had finished showering, picking out his suit for the day, and trimming the few hairs growing on his face, he could walk down stairs and not have to worry about making breakfast while planning out the various atrocites he was going to commit that day. Only, by the time he had showered, suited up, and shaved, Moran had already started in on the second piece of his toast.
Jim had been looking forward to that toast.
He starts walking towards the gunman. "What do you think," he stops and leans on the edge of the table "you are doing", he grabs a fork "eating MY TOAST!"
With that exclamation, Jim takes the fork and attempts to thrust it into Moran's goddamn face.
Unfortunately for Jim, and fortunately for Moran, he misses. Unfortunately for the both of them, the metal utensil lodges deep in the innards of the toaster.
The toaster goes off with a bang.
Fortunately, no great damage was done. Jim's kitchen walls need a new coat of paint to hide the burn marks caused by the flying pieces of hot metal lodged in them, and a few mugs were shattered, but both he and Moran survived. However...
"THIS WAS WESTWOOD YOU IDIOT!"
Jim's suit did not.