She’s smiling because she has a knife behind her back.
“Did you really think I was going to have sex with you, asshole? You must be either stupid or stoned. What actually happens next is a little role-reversal. You get to be Christina Ricci and I get to be Samuel L. Jackson, alright? Truth is, chained up would be your normal state if there were any justice in the world, because—let’s face it—you men are basically scum and have been systematically destroying the place for quite a while. I mean, you moved in next door only a month ago and already you’ve got a frickin’ Firebird up on cinderblocks in your driveway that I have to look at every day. And that Kenny Chesney country bumpkin music you blast all night, I hate that shit. A little torture and pain is well deserved at this point, and believe you me, I plan to strike down upon thee with furious fucking anger and great goddamned vengeance! We’re gonna play Samuel L. Jackson style, white boy, only the game isn’t Snakes on a Plane, it’s one snake in serious…muthafuckin…PAIN!”