[Repression? What the hell is he talking about? Firo knows the word's basic meaning, yeah, but he doesn't see how that relates to him or a man's legs--anyone would be disgusted. Any reasonable person would be disgusted.
His eyes narrow as he steps forward.]
Listen, pal--
[He reaches out to grab the front of Hank's shirt, then notices that... weird stain. Years of street fighting reflexes kick in, and he aborts the grip at the last second, leaving himself just hanging out weirdly close to Hank.
Ahem. Anyway.]
I don't think you know what the hell you're talking about.
["Because I don't know what you're talking about, but I can't admit that."]
no subject
His eyes narrow as he steps forward.]
Listen, pal--
[He reaches out to grab the front of Hank's shirt, then notices that... weird stain. Years of street fighting reflexes kick in, and he aborts the grip at the last second, leaving himself just hanging out weirdly close to Hank.
Ahem. Anyway.]
I don't think you know what the hell you're talking about.
["Because I don't know what you're talking about, but I can't admit that."]