Why're you acting so squeamish, love? It's nothing you haven't seen before.

[He looks down at himself and is barely able to make out the inflamed pink scar tissue where Zoran had shot him in the chest. Easier to see is he criss-crossed mess of shrapnel scarring across his abdomen. And below that, disturbingly, his beltloops growing from his skin. Again he worries about certain plumbing essentials.]

Oh, shit.

[There's a brief pause.]

I guess bikini season's out for me now, eh?