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Your office door busts open and you just know this is going to spell trouble. To your surprise, it's not goons of any of the many varieties of gang in this city, all obviously trying to kill each other and you at every opportunity. Instead, it's just Ace Dick, your friend and sort-of still rival, as well as your totally annoying next-door neighbour.
You ask him where the fire is.
Ace misses an opportunity for a clever comeback. He wants to know what the deal is with the big gay thing you've got going on with Spades Slick- who, in case you've forgotten, he points out, is the biggest threat to the city since Mobster Kingpin.
To be fair, you say, Mobster Kingpin turned into a giant demon thing (you're still not really sure how that worked).
Ace isn't buying it. He says he wouldn't be surprised one bit if tomorrow you called him in to deal with giant monster demon Spades Slick, with... tentacles. And spikes. Ace is making this all up, and poorly. Obviously not working on training up that low Imagination.
You tell him that you've got three times his Imagination on bad days, and even you can't imagine Spades Slick sprouting tentacles. How stupid would that be. Just really unbelievable.
In a surprising fit of memory, Ace remembers what he came in for. He's back on your case again about you and Slick.
Not that it's any of his beeswax, you tell him, but it's just a pair of gents having a drink and a talk every once in awhile. You don't see what he's getting his tie in a twist about. Besides, Spades Slick's a dangerous customer, alright, but if the two of you can work out a way to tone down the gang wars, you'll hop on that train. Too many dames and kids getting drawn into this business as is.
Ace holds his ground. If it was just drinks and a talk, that'd be one thing. He's staked your apartment out, and he knows how many nights you don't come back to it.
Business, you say.
Dirty business, Ace says.
It feels like your collar's tightening up, and you begin to wish you'd hidden under your desk when he came in. You'd really hoped to have thrown him off the trail, but it looks like his detective skills aren't as garbage as you'd figured. You take a new tack.
That's right, you say. Can't a guy spend a night with another guy without it being some big gay thing with him? You shake your head sadly. What's this world coming to? But yes, for his information, Slick did take you back to one of his apartments, one with a great rug and a swanky balcony, and kept you up all hours of the night with some activities you trust Ace has enough Imagination to get the idea of. Yes, you say, putting your feet up on the desk, you and Spades Slick had a nice evening together. No, you've got no extra stab wounds. And no, no tentacles or horns or extra limbs that you noticed, and yes, you got enough of a look at him to notice if they'd been there.
And, you finish, you're planning on it again sometime this week. Maybe Wednesday. No wait, that's poker night. Thursday. And if Ace has got a problem with you and Spades Slick and what you do together, then he'll just have to bite his tongue and keep it to himself.
Ace says it's not that. You take your feet off the desk, and hope you didn't just spill that all for no good reason.
He says, if you were so interested in all this gay stuff, why didn't you come to him first.
Forget the desk. You should have jumped out the window.