The only thing I fuckin smell is your ratchet ass cologne made from the delicious sweet salty tears of orphans. That an some sweaty ass conspiracy theories. Your family the fuckin' Illuminati too? Wouldn't put it past ya. [Badou's face is screwed (......) up in disbelief and definitely enough anger to fuel a deathstar. He shakes Kyouya by the collar, just a bit.] Am I gonna get paid for this shitty seminar? You leave my fuckin' orientation alone, the kinky shit you an daddy do ain't my prob-
[Instead of the rest of that bitch-tirade, what leaves Badou's mouth is a squawk as his cheeks flush and his face turns stoney (heh...). Tightly (.......), he intones-]

...That ain't your glasses you're squeezin'.