My tone was purposed insolence; I met his look with bravado.
There was something in the man's tone of bravado that stamped it genuine.
His eyes fell, his bravado vanished, he fumbled with the cutlery.
The last fragment of self-respect, of bravado even, was in tatters.
When he saw Mathieu come in he believed in some act of bravado, and almost choked.
At times, when all ...