”Abba, where the hell were you!? We were worried! You didn’t go out to drink and fight did you?” I yell as you walk into the motel, you seemed tired. You shake your head. ”You’re sweating, you know how this goes, don’t lie to me Abbacchio.” I grab your arm and pull you back. I am able to know if someone is lying simply by looking at them, knowing that when a person lies their skin glistens due to sweating. I can also taste a person's sweat to distinguish them as a liar, saying that the sweat of a liar tastes sweeter than normal. I step forward into your personal space. Before I suddenly run my tongue up your cheek, licking my lips. ”You have the sweet taste of a liar, I knew it! You’re out drinking and fighting!”