Yeah. Good. Neither am I. Thinking about anything about your mouth, I mean.

[...The fuck was that? He's usually so much better with his words. Dito clears his throat awkwardly; runs his hand through his hair again. A few downy feathers come away in his fingers and flutter down to the floor, but he doesn't seem to notice.]

How 'bout we start over? I'm Dito. You got a name or should I just call you "Sex Shop Owner" like we're in some kinda shitty RPG?

[Dito you're not supposed to know what those are.]