[ It's repulsive, what Kavinsky is saying. Repulsive, vulgar, hitting on every nerve in Jesse that makes him wildly uncomfortable about gay assholes like this guy. It's this exact kind of talk that sends straight guys into a gay panic: the fear of being cornered by a faggot, spoken to like this, having their space invaded in all the ways straight men don't realise they do to women.

Just a warm body. Mouth that won't quit. Disgusting. Yet that's exactly what he'd used Ronan for, hadn't he?

Thing is... there is something Jesse wants from Kavinsky. It's why he's standing here, taking the vulgarity, the sliminess of Kavinsky's eyes feasting all over him, managing by sheer force of will to keep his face schooled into apathy.

A final drag of his cigarette. He drops it to the ground, exhaling as he crushes it under his foot. ]

So, what you're really sayin' is: you're a two-dollar hooker with absolutely nothing to offer to even remotely sweeten the deal. I mean, if I was gonna stick my dick into a mouth that don't quit, I'd need a little something to take my mind off the fact that it's your cheap ass mouth. A little Tina. A little Molly. A little Snow White, perhaps. But I'm all outta the good stuff, so guess you're gonna have to look for your straight guy fetish elsewhere.