[6]

[britchillsout]

So, uh... chicks dig pirates, right? 'Cause I'm pretty sure he's not crowning the king with that arm anytime soon.

[ He turns away and lifts a pen to the mirror. ]

Seriously, sometimes you're...

[ He adds three strokes on his side of a scoreboard (bringing the score up to 176 : 0). ]

You're painful to watch, you know that, right?

[ Phil taps

Comments

[respectedman]

[Guess who's still horrified by the entire affair? This guy!

He shares his disapproval when Phil returns from his tallying; Somebody hasn't been fully-caffeinated this morning. Dean might sound just a liiiiiittle grumpy.]

Update your score?

[Pour cream into coffee. One spoonful of sugar. Stir.]

[britchillsout]

Getting pretty close to our 200th now.

[ Fridge -> Couch -> Sit. ]

Think we should do something special for that?

[ Ahh, nothing like a morning on the couch with milk straight from the bottle. ]

[respectedman]

[Dean snorts.]

Since when have you been known to think outside the box?

[Dean Smith > Take sip of coffee.
Mood > Improved.

He joins Phil on the sofa, cradling his mug in both hands and breathing in the sweet scent of life's ichor.]

I think I'm simply impressed that you're keeping track.

[britchillsout]

[ Phil looks at Dean solemnly. ]

That's an important mission, pet. Maybe I'll--

[ He empties the bottle of milk and drops it on the floor. ]

I'll even figure out how somebody with a body like that manages to... [ Phil pushes the air away with his hands, looking for the right word ] to repel sex like he does.