It wouldn't be true at all if you said you hated the way the sultry drawl of their snaky little chuckle slipped through their lips (even if you did still say it) so easily when they made those jokes that should come with a parental advisory warning, and a TV-MA rating floating over their head that could be seen within a ten mile distance.

When that toothy grin appeared at any 'fuck you' you threw their way, so they could send a 'fuck me yourself' right back. You set yourself up for their shit. It made them giggle, every single time. They couldn't help it. You weren't sure it was something they could control anymore. The constant sex jokes, or the uncontrollable swearing but it was still entertaining. Sometimes you wondered if they'd actually meant it, like, any of it, but you would never ask.

Their figure, in female form, was slung over your bed, their fingertips running over the pearl linked necklace around their neck, while their head rested on the back of your knee, their tongue poking absentmindedly into their cheek. They grin everytime you shift your eyes to look at them. They like the attention they get from you. Maybe that's why they're so vulgar.

"Whata'you lookin' at?"