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Those look like the kind of biceps they make in prison.
“You want some soup or something? No offense, but you look like a corpse.” “Full offense, but you look like someone who deals weed to middle schoolers.”
“You look twelve, or something.” “And you look like someone who breaks kneecaps for the mafia,” he retorts.
No offense to hockey or anything, but my interest in the sport starts and ends with you.”
“Jesus, no, I mean yes, of course I’ve liked you. What I meant is that I just realized that I like you. Like, I want to kiss you. And we should have sex, sometime.”
