Yeah? Well you better keep it in your fucking pants or I'll rip it off and see how sick you get from that.

[Great, a fucking mind-reader. Hammerhead's favorite thing.

Her eyes are livid as she leans forward and grabs the front of his garnet shirt, yanking on the fabric to pull him to her level. Even sick she's got a hell of a grip, and if ever a short woman had trouble staring down a much taller man, it sure isn't now.]

You poke around in my brain, I curbstomp yours onto the street. Got it?