James: (snickering) Esteban. Check this out.

Steve: (appearing behind him to look over his shoulder) Hmm? What’s… uh…

James: (still snickering) Are you sure she said it annoys her? 

Steve: (confused) But…

James: Exactly!

Steve: But that’s… I mean… what?

James: Just go with it, man.

Steve: Really, though? If Miranda’s butt has become self-aware and is now living a life of its own on the extranet, I don’t think I could just go with it. Suspension of disbelief only stretches so far, Mr. Vega. Reapers are one thing… sapient, disembodied yet ambulatory asses are quite something else.

James: You’re overthinking this, man. It’s just for fun.

Steve: So you say, until your ass is criticizing your choice of clothing, your biceps are trying to micromanage your workout routine, and your pecs are demanding civil rights. Or even… trying to steal your identity.

James: Okay, okay, okay. Back up. “Steal my identity”?

Steve: (seriously) It’s not unheard of.

James: Yyyyeaaahhh… I think you might need to take a break, Esteban.

Steve: I think maybe we should both take a break. It’s lunch time, anyway.

James: Yeah, I could eat. Just don’t you accept any huevos rancheros you get from me if you have any bit of doubt that I’m actually my sapient ambulance ass pretending to be me, or whatever.

Steve: (snort) Don’t be ridiculous. I could tell your ass’s cooking from yours by smell alone.

(Beat.)

James: I think you took it too far, Esteban.

Steve: I’m sensing that. Shall we go?

James: After you.

[OOC: I may not have a chance to update this week due to my imminent vacation in the deep south. Even if I can’t, I’ll be back the following week. My thanks to all of you out there reading this, and to mirandalawsonsass for providing me with substantial meta-amusement.

Steve’s link is to a short story by Nikolai Gogol called “The Nose”, in which a man’s nose detaches from his face and proceeds to make various mischiefs.]

James: (sombrely) No. I never met him. Esteban and I first met on Fehl, 2179. That’s where I was stationed for most of the last eight years or so. I moved around a bit – missions in nearby systems, that sort of thing – but Fehl was pretty much my home base until the Collector attack. Esteban though, he was only there for about half a year. Afterwards he was stationed on Ferris Fields, which is where he met Robert… right?

Steve: That’s right. Robert came to Ferris Fields with the first wave of colonization in the 2160s. I actually met him in 2179 too, about a month and a half after I left Fehl Prime. A year later we were married… Our sixth anniversary was approaching when the Collectors attacked. I didn’t have nearly enough time with him before he was gone.

(James rests a sympathetic hand on Steve’s shoulder.)

Thanks. He said… he used to call me his “eezo core.”

James: That’s… I don’t get it.

Steve: I had to ask him to explain it the first time, too. He said before he’d met me, he felt tethered in place. Anchored, so to speak. He’d come to Ferris Fields because it had jobs, but he had no overarching purpose in his life – nothing to show him a way out of the “cage” of everyday monotony, as he called it. He enjoyed his work, but he wanted more than just work. He wanted to be lighter – to be able to sail, to fly freely in the currents of life. So I was his eezo core, because I gave him that lightness, and with it purpose. Just like he gave it to me. We freed each other, Robert and I.

James: He sounds a lot like you, Esteban.

Steve: It’s true, we were very similar.

James: I think he’d be happy that you’re still free.

Steve: Really, though? Because I couldn’t do as he asked. I clung to him, even after he was gone. It took Shepard to pull me out of that darkness.

James: Loco didn’t pull you out of anything. You pulled yourself out. He just showed you a light.

Steve: I suppose you’re right. Thanks, Mr. Vega.

James: We’ve met Lawson, yeah. Is her butt really that …widespread? I mean, does she not care?

Steve: She and I have had a few conversations, on a few different topics. It’s come up. It’s not so much that she doesn’t care as that she lost control, long ago.

James: (flatly) She lost control of her butt.

Steve: (smirking) Apparently so. According to Miranda, cameras in general seem to just… behave strangely in her presence. She’s actually quite good at evading the electronic gaze – no doubt due at least in part to her years of working for Cerberus, and evading her megalomaniac father. But there are some cameras she can’t get away from, and they… well, they stare at her ass.

James: (laughing) What?

Steve: These are her words, not mine. It sounds like, whenever she shows up on camera – whether it’s footage of her or still images – the camera’s viewpoints seem to gravitate to her ass. She showed me a few examples… it really is quite startling how pronounced the effect is. It’s a statistical anomaly.

James: That’s anomalous, for sure. Anomalass, even.

Steve: (dryly) Har har har. In case it needs to be said, this tendency actually irritates Miranda to no end. She gave up trying to limit the proliferation of images of her ass quite a while ago, but – shockingly ­– she still prefers people address her face-to-face and make eye contact while doing so.

James: Well… I might be out of line here, and say so if I am, but doesn’t she kind of invite the attention by wearing …that? Like how does she even get that on in the morning?

Steve: Do you not invite the same kind of attention by wearing that tight shirt? You have a bigger chest than some asari, Mr. Vega. People should be able to wear whatever they want without having to put up with unwanted advances and blatant sexual objectification.

James: So I’m out of line.

Steve: Yep.

James: Gotcha. Sorry. I see what you mean, though. Maybe I do kind of like the attention… but that’s my choice. Just because I invite it doesn’t mean other people do. Miranda just likes wearing the clothes she wears. Doesn’t mean she wants people catcalling and staring at her ass, or like it’s somehow her fault if people do.

Steve: Right. See, you get it.

Anyways… now that we’ve done our gender norms and socially acceptable behaviour lecture for the day, how about we answer the actual question?

James: Yeah. I mean… everything we just said is true and stuff but… I’m gonna have to go with Miranda on this one. Her butt is just… a great butt. I mean a culo seriously muy calientes. And I respect her as a person, absolutely. She’s a human being and that always comes first. But since the question asked… damn. That is some booty.

Steve: Understandable. You’re the mostly straight one of us, after all. I can’t imagine Kaidan’s butt would stand much chance on your personal hot meter next to Miranda’s.

James: Si. I think he has a good butt… I mean people go on and on about it. But I’ve never really looked closely to confirm.

Steve: I have.

And he does, in fact, have a fantasstic butt. And Shepard agrees with me. So my vote is for Kaidan.

James: But this also comes as completely not surprising, no? I mean, you’re gay. You’re not into the ladies, sexually.

Steve: Very true. So I suppose there was only one choice for me in this matter. Kaidan still has an intensely hot ass, though.

James: Lookit you, Esteban. Not shy at all with the compliments.

Steve: Well, he does. (pause) But I respect him as a person first. No human or alien being is reducible to their ass.

James: There it is! So now I gotta ask: what if the choice was between, say, the Major’s ass and mine? Or Loco’s?

Steve: Oh my. No. No, you can’t do that. Don’t torture me like that. It’s not fair.

James: Ha!

James: …¿Qué?

Steve: Thank you. I quite like my eyes, too. I’d be blind without them.

James: Why, though? I mean…

Steve: Because how would I see?

James: No, pendejo. Why should I date Joker?

Steve: Oh… hmm. I have no idea. Because it would be insanely adorable? Why not?

James: Why not? Come on, man. Now you’re just siding with the followers to mess with me. For one thing, I don’t like him that way. He’s a good guy, and we’re buddies, but not like… butt buddies.

Steve: Not like you and me, you mean.

James: Right. Or me and Loco. You get it. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s straight.

Steve: You don’t know that for sure, though.

James: That’s right, I don’t, but he’s never said anything to me that’s indicated he’s into dudes. And finally, he has a girlfriend already. And his girlfriend is literally the ship. So if I went up to the cockpit all, Hey man, we should be butt buddies, how do I know my sleeper pod won’t spontaneously deactivate while I’m inside it?!

Steve: That’s ridiculous. EDI would never do that. And I doubt she appreciates the implication.

EDI: Do not worry, James. Were you to express interest in Jeff, I would not take any hostile action against you while you were unable to defend yourself.

James: Well, that’s reas… hang on. ‘While I’m unable to defend myself’?

EDI: Correct. I am much more likely to co-opt a geth prime platoon and gun you down on the battlefield, where the incident could be attributed to a Reaper virus.

Steve: (amused) That was-

EDI: A joke, yes.

James: Yeah… yeah, I knew that. Heh. Still, though.

Steve: I understand your reasons. Consider this hypothetically, though. If Joker weren’t in a relationship already and you had reason to believe he was interested in men, would you make a move?

James: Well… like I said, I just don’t see the guy that way. He’s cute, I suppose… I dunno. I’m still not really used to looking at guys and going “Hawt! I’d romance that guy and also let’s fuck.” You know?

Steve: Sure.

James: You and Loco encouraged me to… how did he say it? “Explore my boundaries.” Up until a few months ago I was pretty damned sure I was straight. With maybe some bi-curious experimentation years and years ago, with you. I still am mostly straight. It’s just the two of you that really get me hot, and I think that has as much to do with your personalities as with your hot bods.

Steve: That makes perfect sense, Mr. Vega. Your sexuality is allowed to fluid.

James: Yeah, that. I’m not saying it could never happen, but I’m pretty happy with things as they are, and I’m pretty sure Joker is too. Plus I’d be worried about breaking his pelvis and shit.

Steve: (smirk) Naturally.

James: I’ve been wondering about that, actually. Like does EDI have to be real careful? I mean I’m sure she does, but like how do they even-

Steve: James, just stop there.

James: But I’m really-

Steve: No.

James: Awww…

(Steve is working quietly at his console, but he looks a little bit frustrated. James sneaks up on him and wraps him in a crushing bear hug from behind, immobilizing his arms. Steve smiles.)

Steve: (slightly breathlessly) Hello, Mr. Vega.

James: Hiya, Esteban.

Steve: (squirming a little) May I ask what you’re doing?

James: I’m bear hugging you! Duh.

Steve: Uh huh. Silly question, okay. May I ask why?

James: (resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder) You looked bored. And the fans asked. And I wanted to.

Steve: (nodding) Ah, of course. Our fans. Are they just a bunch of perverts, or what? Voyeurs, too. Seriously.

James: Are you complaining?

Steve: I didn’t say it was a bad thing.

James: (smirk) Knew it. (turning his head to whisper into Steve’s ear) They also asked me to give you a kiss.

Steve: Did they now.

James: Yep.

Steve: (turning towards him; with a purr in his voice) Well?

(James moves his hands up to Steve’s shoulder and turns him around before leaning in to give him a kiss.)

Steve: (affecting disappointment) Was that it? Not saying I didn’t like it, but that wasn’t much of a kiss, Jimmy boy.

(James leans in and gives him a longer kiss, sliding one hand up to stroke Steve’s neck.)

Steve: (slightly flushed; huskily) Much better. Does Shepard know about this?

James: I was thinking of recording it for him. If you think he’d be cool with it. And – uh, if you’re cool with it.

Steve: O-oh my. Yes… yes, I think he could handle that. And me. Me too. I could too. Yes.

(James activates his omni-tool and enters a few commands before bracing himself on Steve’s console and leaning against the pilot for another kiss. Steve slides his hands up James’s back and responds with a soft murmur of pleasure. They make out for a few minutes. After a while James lets out a growl and bodily lifts Steve onto his console. He then moves his hands up to Steve’s chest, tugging him forward while kissing and sucking on his neck. Steve sighs and holds James’s head in his hands, leaning down to nuzzle against his mohawk. At this point the elevator door opens and Garrus and Javik enter the shuttle bay, discussing assault rifles.)

Garrus: Of course, the benefits of using thermal clips don’t seem that great when Reapers invade and disrupt our supply lines, creating effective ammo shortages.

Javik: That is the advantage of the particle beam. It needs no supply line. It can fire as long as there is an atmosphere around it. I have suggested that the technology be scaled up for tanks and atmospheric craft, but the Commander-

(Both of them freeze as they see what James and Steve are doing. Steve’s eyes widen and he lifts his head up.)

Steve: James…

James: (caressing the small of Steve’s back under his shirt) Mmhmm. I know you like it there, buddy. I’m thinkin’ maybe we should move this to the-

Steve: (urgently) James!

(James looks up, sees the expression on Steve’s face, and looks around to follow his gaze. He sees Garrus and Javik silently staring at him, Garrus torn between discomfort and amusement and Javik clearly not impressed. His face pales, and he swiftly removes his hand from Steve’s shirt.)

James: I… uh… (turning away from Steve) shit. (hiding his face, which is now bright red, in one hand)

Steve: (now trying to contain laughter, resting a hand on James’s shoulder) Mr. Vega, could you please get something for me from the crew deck?

James: (straightening) Yes. Yes I could. Thank you. Yeah. I’ll go now. (hastily heading for the elevator) Ahem… ‘scuse me. I gotta… yeah.

(Garrus smoothly steps out of the way as James passes him without making eye contact. Javik just stares, critically. After the elevator door closes, Javik and Garrus turn to Steve.)

Steve: (straightening his shirt as he jumps down from the console) Gentlemen. My apologies. Mr. Vega doesn’t do well in awkward situations. (gesturing to the gun bench and turning back to his console) Let me know if you need help with anything.

(Javik and Garrus glance at each other, and then head for the gun bench.)

Javik: (muttering) Why would you even try to mate with one of your own sex? It is pointless.

EDI: Steve, should I stop recording on the shuttle bay cameras now?

(Garrus hastily covers his snort with a coughing fit. Javik closes his eyes and touches his forehead ridge.)

Steve: (calmly) Yes, EDI. Thank you. Please transfer the recorded footage to Shepard’s private terminal.

(Javik’s eyes abruptly open. Garrus coughs some more.)

Steve: (pleased) I inspire you? That’s… amazing. Thank you! It’s wonderful to know I have a positive influence on someone. I’ll do my best to live up to it.

James: You’re an inspiring dude, Esteban. Though I wonder, were they inspired to be a badass pilot like you? Or just a procurement specialist? Eh?

Steve: (incredulous snort) “Just” a procurement specialist? There is nothing that is not badass about being a procurement specialist, Mr. Vega. If you’ll recall, it was my connections that got us some decent tequila, and it’s my skills that let us keep our Blasto underwear circuit running even in wartime. It may not be as action-packed as piloting the Kodiak into hot zones, but my procurement skills are just as important to the war effort.

James: True enough. We’ve probably donated enough just from Blasto underwear to build a cruiser by now.

Steve: (smug) Exactly.

James: All right, all right. You’re badass, Esteban, and it’s no surprise you inspire people. You know I was kidding anyway, man. Hell, you inspire me.

Steve: (touched) Why thank you. Now, how about the rest of this question? How long have you been such a beefcake?

James: Well, I’m naturally pretty wiry, but it-

Steve: (interrupting him) Sorry, hold on. Wiry?

James: Yes, wiry! That’s a legit word to describe guys who are muscly but not really bulky. You’re wiry, Esteban!

Steve: (smirking) I know. It’s just… not a word I’d think of to describe you, Mr. Vega. To be honest, I picture teenager-you as a slightly smoother, less scarred and tattooed version of contemporary-you.

James: Well, exactly. I’ve always been into working out and staying fit, so by the time I enlisted when I was sixteen I was pretty solid for a guy my age. I thought I was ready for the training, and I was, but it was still a challenge. Lots of the recruits who weren’t in the kind of shape I was had an even tougher time. There were a few in my training group, including me, who’d been working out and eating right since puberty, and after a while we noticed that we had an edge. I was young and cocky at the time… way cockier than I am now, if you can believe that-

Steve: (muffled snickering)

James: No, seriously. If you think I’m full of myself now, you should have met me then.

Steve: I did, remember? On Fehl Prime.

James: Ohhh… yeah. See, you know! One of my sergeants used to wonder how I lugged my ego around without an eezo core.

Steve: (now laughing openly) Sounds about right.

James: Anyway, when the training was over everyone who’d lasted through it had been whipped into shape. Most of us, but not all. Me, I was a big shot, even compared to the other buff guys and girls who’d been the top scorers with me. I liked that. I liked being just a little bit stronger, a little bit faster than everyone else. So I thought that if I wanted to stay the best, I needed to keep working out, get beefier. Be a tank.

Steve: You must have run into people who used illegal enhancements.

James: I sure did. Steroids, implants, illegal gene mods – it’s all out there for anyone who wants it. I won’t lie, I considered steroids for a while, but I was lucky. My first CO was interested in fitness like me, and she was in fantastic shape. None of us grunts could beat her in hand-to-hand. She knew what was what, so I decided I should talk to her about my options before I did anything. And thank god I did. I didn’t outright tell her I was thinking about illegal drugs, but she knew – she’d seen plenty of others like me make the wrong choice, and more importantly she’d seen what happened to them because of it. So she set me straight. Told me horror stories about what happens to the guys who get hooked on the stuff, showed me some educational vids. I was convinced.

Steve: I almost don’t want to ask, but what does happen to those people?

James: For one thing, a dishonourable discharge and a permanent black mark on your record. For another thing, cancer, sterility, mutations, life-long illness, maybe an addiction or three. And that’s the least of it. Awful, awful stuff comes with black market cybernetics and unregulated genetic tampering. What some people voluntarily do to their bodies… it’s scary, man. Horrifying even. Especially in hindsight, given what the Reapers are doing to us right now.

Steve: You don’t mean-

James: Yes I do. I saw pictures and vids that gave me nightmares. I even knew a few marines who took that path. They wanted to be better than the best – nothing was ever good enough. They wanted perfection. And at the end, they looked more like husks than people. I’m not even kidding.

(Steve shakes his head silently with a disturbed expression on his face.)

James: Something else my CO taught me – all the modern technology we have, mass effect fields and gene mods and cybernetics, it all comes with a price. Mostly that price is using it responsibly. Some of it is the consequences of not using it responsibly. So she made it clear to me that if I wanted a career in the Alliance, and if I wanted to be the best I could be without sacrificing my health or my body or my ideals or my friendships, then I needed to keep it legal and keep it safe. The rules are there for a reason. I took her advice, and she got me in touch with all the best people the Alliance has for this type of thing – personal trainers, doctors, geneticists. I got a few extra gene mods apart from the normal Alliance package, so my muscles are slightly better at using the protein and vitamins I eat, and they take longer to fatigue. My lungs are slightly more efficient at blood oxygenation under duress and my myostatin is suppressed so my muscles can get bigger, within healthy limits. And I have a cardio-regulator implant that monitors my heart and my blood oxygen levels. It sends out little kicks of various enzymes and hormones now and then to give me an edge in high-stress situations, like combat. It has built-in limits it won’t go over, and if I’m close to going over a limit or if my body is taking more strain than it can heal in a reasonable time, it sends a warning to my omni-tool.

Steve: Huh. That’s pretty impressive. I take it you still have to work out to maintain your current muscle mass?

James: Yep. And to entertain you, of course.              

Steve: (smirk) Obviously.

James: Got beefy, gotta stay beefy. Once upon a time it was just so I could beat up mercs and pirates and fight krogan and have raw sex appeal, but now I do it so I can throw cannibals at rachni and punch brutes to keep them off Loco while he’s having epic biotic fights with banshees and Collectors.

Steve: (dryly) Uh huh. Or you could, you know, shoot them.

James: Hey man. I’m not saying I don’t prefer to shoot them. I got implants and gene mods for that too, courtesy of the Alliance. But sometimes a brute gets pissed and keeps coming no matter how many Graal spikes I launch into its face, so I gotta punch it around a bit to teach it who’s in charge. No?

Steve: No, of course you’re right. The Reapers need a reason to be scared of us, and you fit the bill, Mr. Vega.

James: Damn right. Now that I’ve given you the crash course in the dangers of illegal body enhancement, how about you? Maybe after the war’s over? It would take longer for you, because I got all my tech when I was younger and still growing, but you could be a tank just like me if you worked hard, Esteban. Hell, you have chest hair, you could even be a legit bear.

Steve: (smiling) As appealing as the idea is, I’m fine with my current level of beefiness. I’m more into bear-hugging than bear- …being. Shepard, though – he’s always expressed admiration for your muscles. I bet you could convince him to become a bear. Then I’d have two teddy bears to keep me warm at night. I could be the meat in a bear sandwich! I’d be the happiest guy in the galaxy.

James: This is starting to get sexy. (shuffling toward his workbench) I’m gonna go over here before I get too interested and can’t concentrate.

Steve: (affecting a pout) Aww… well, you know where to find me, Jimmy boy.

James: Sheesh, Esteban, not while we’re on duty.

(James reads the question on his console while Steve is working nearby at his, his back to James.)

James: Hmmm… (eyeing Steve askance)

Steve: (without turning around) Thinking deep thoughts, Mr. Vega?

James: Sorta. You know you’re due for a break, right?

Steve: I had a break two hours ago.

James: (smirking, folding his arms) That was six hours ago, actually.

Steve: What? (activating his omni-tool and glancing at the time) Oh… huh. Man, time really flies during interstellar transit. Well, let me just finish debugging this sorting algorithm and then I’ll… well hello there.

James: (wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind) I think you should finish that later, and take a break right now.

Steve: (still working, but fingers slowing down) I… wow, my heart just accelerated. Dramatically. Mr. Vega, you’re in an interesting mood. What brought this on?

James: (nuzzling his shoulder) Check the inbox for our blog.

(Quirking his eyebrow, Steve calls up the inbox on his console and looks at the question James has left open. His eyes widen.)

Steve: Ooohoo. Mr. Vega. Really? You’d do that? You’re not uncomfortable? Well- (as James is stroking his hips under his shirt) you’re clearly not uncomfortable, but…

James: I’m feeling grateful.

Steve: For what?

James: Last night.

Steve: (chuckling) Fair enough. You’re not going to let me finish this algorithm, are you?

James: Nope. (suddenly picks Steve up in his arms and carries him over to a crate)

Steve: (grabbing James’s shoulders) Holy crap! A little warning would have been nice!

James: (setting Steve down on the crate) You know I like to keep you on your toes, Esteban. Now relax and enjoy.

Steve: Mmmhmm. Shouldn’t be difficult.

(James proceeds to *(&^%$#&* error 407: data corrupted

Steve: (blushing just a little) Oh, my.

James: Ha haaaa! They love you as much as they love me, Esteban.

Steve: Well – thank you very much. (turns around and looks down over his shoulder in the direction of his butt) While I don’t imagine my posterior is quite as… what’s the word? Bodacious? Bootylicious? As Mr. Vega’s over there, I can’t deny I’ve spent some time in the gym working on my glutes. Shepard is quite fond of my butt, actually. In fact he seems to enjoy spending quite a lot of time-

James: Oooohkay, Esteban. That is more information than we require.

Steve: (deadpan) Are you quite sure you speak for our readers on that one? Or are you just dealing with confusing and powerful feelings of your own, Mr. Vega?

James: (cough) I’m not touching that one.

Steve: Really, though? (pats his butt) As I recall you seemed to enjoy touching it quite a lot, that one time. And that other time, and the other time and also those other few times. I believe your most oft-used expression to describe your appreciation for a certain pilot’s derriere was “firm, yet bouncy.”

James: (blushing furiously) Dios, Esteban! You’re too much. I have to go, uh, clean my gu- (stops) I have to go oil my- (stops) I have to go fix something. (leaves)

Steve: (chuckling softly, turning back to his console) You just let me know when you’re ready for another go… (lowering his voice) Jimmy boy.

(James walks into a crate and curses fluently.)

Anonymous question: “so how much for a lap dance vega?”

James: A lap dance? I dunno. I kinda have to be there in person to do that.

Steve: We do have some shore leave on the Citadel coming up, you know.

James: Yeah, that’s true. Tell you what – if you’ll be on the Citadel on my next shore leave, then maybe I’ll give you a patented Jimmy Vega lap dance. The price is, you have to donate something to the war effort. Anything – money, resources, technology, volunteer your time, make something. Hell, hold a bake sale. Make care packages for soldiers. Whatever you can give to increase our chances, do it and let me know. Then, I’ll give you back something special, just for you. (winks)

Steve: (touched) James… that’s sweet. Good idea, too. I’ve donated all my savings already, but now I wonder if maybe I can’t scrape together something else. I’m interested in this “patented Jimmy Vega lap dance.”

James: Aw, hell no, Esteban. You don’t have to pay, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. You get one for free whenever you want.

Steve: (smiling) Is that so. Well, that certainly makes things nice and simple. I’ll keep that in mind.

Anonymous question (which I had written down, but the original is unrecoverable): “Hey Jimmy. Nice ass.”

James: (cocky grin) Thanks. It’s pretty fantastic, isn’t it? Or should I say …fan-taaassssss-tic. Heh. Heh heh heh.

Steve: (dryly) Truly, you are the most gifted among us when it comes to puns, Mr. Vega. I am honoured and titillated to be conscious in the presence of such a master wordsmith. Your talents for shaping sentences and cavorting in the ever-mutable linguistic landscape are boundless.

James: Esteban, I’m pretty sure everything you just said makes you the master of words here, not me. I understood less than half of that. Well… maybe two-thirds.

Steve: (smirk) Oh? Well, then. Thank you for saying so.

James: S’okay, buddy. You gotta be good at something, what with me having such a fantastic ass and all. (nudging him) Eh? Eh? Wouldn’t want you to get jealous, am I right?

Steve: So magnanimous.