Awww, why not? [Another flash of those pointed teeth, one of them gold-capped, a sure sign of ownership by the Vees. Except -- no, this guy, Dirk, he doesn't recognize Angel. He doesn't know who the Vees are, doesn't understand the consequences of messing around with Valentino's things. There's a giddy, addictive thrill to that, made even better by all of Dirk's lean, broad, tempting bod, right there for the admiring.] You a bad boy, Dirk? That whatcha tellin' me?

[Another puff of smoke, this one forming a loose, almost abstract heart that swirls and loops around Dirk's pointed exhalation, like ivy on a tree.] I don't mind a little bit'a bad, sugar. Vanilla's for cakes, yaknow.

[Then Angel laughs, straightening up to his full seven-foot-something height and sauntering over.] What a coincidence, phallic's my favorite shape. And color and flavor and sight and all that jazz. [One of those spidery arms drapes over Dirk's shoulders, gloved hands plucking and smoothing at his clothes.] Am I flatterin' you enough yet, or should I keep goin'?