“Are you allergic to shirts or something? Why are you always half naked?” “Because I look fucking awesome and it’s a pity to hide it. Also, does this mean you were checking me out?” “Nonsense. It’s impossible to miss your constant state of nudity.” “Constant state of nudity. Jesus. Chill, my dude. You sound like a judge in court.” “I’m not your dude.” He stresses the word as if it’s an insult and starts to shift past me.
