Holster squints at the image Ransom pulls up on his laptop. “Eeeeeeh, Imma go with like a 6? Outta 10? I mean, there’s the mustache and the flow, but you’re missing like basic similarities in facial bone structure there.”
Holster looks back at Shitty, who’s reclined in Ransom’s bed because of the Never-Again-Shitty-With-No-Pants-In-Holster’s-Bed Act of September 2013.
“Meh, 6.5. Because eyebrows.”
Shitty frowns at his phone. “If we’re only doing a neck-up assessment, well, sure, then maybe like a 6. But if we’re fucking doing a whole body comparison, like a fucking 2. What’s Parros, like, 6-foot-3? 6-foot-4? And he’s a huge fucker. I’m like, 5-foot-fucking-10, so I dunno how much I look like the bro other than flow-wise and ‘stache-wise.”
“Bro, those are your defining characteristics,” says Ransom.
Shitty bolts up in bed. “Fuck you, Rans. My eyes have been described as shimmering and radiant.”
“I’ve always said the same thing about your mustache,” says Holster.
“Fuck you, Holster.”
Ransom spins around in the swivel chair and snaps his fingers at Holster. “Oh dude, you know who Shitty kinda reminds me of? That one guy from that movie. With the—where they’re all on heroin and they’re Irish? It has Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
“Robert Carlyle in Trainspotting,” says Holster automatically, snapping his fingers back. “And when Shits came back from break and got his flow chopped off, you said he looked like—”
“—Tom Selleck. Yup.”
Shitty throws his hands in the air. “The fuck! You guys are just naming white guys with mustaches!”
Holster shrugs. “We’ve never seen you without a mustache—”
“Aaaand I’m out,” says Shitty before rolling off of Ransom’s bed and hopping to the attic floor with a thunk. “I’ve been in conversations like these a THOUSAND times and they always go in the same direction.” Shitty stops at the stairs and points at both of them. “I’m not. Shaving. The ‘Stache.”
(The seriousness of the moment is undercut by the fact that Shitty is wearing nothing but Wonder Woman underwear.)
And Shitty leaves, stomping down the attic stairs.
“Damn,” says Ransom, staring after Shitty. “Why’s Shitty always so weird about his ‘stache?”
“When the fuck did you see Trainspotting?”
“Holster. It was on your douchey list.”
Holster smiles at Ransom, looking genuinely touched. “You watched those?”
“You’re such a douchebag.”