Nursey, tracing some of Dex's freckles: "you know, I never noticed, but these spell something out." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. They say: 'wash the fucking dishes, bitch.' It's your turn."
“Hey, Nurse, my other arm says something too.”
Nursey, gullible as he is, actually looks. “What?”
“It says ‘you’re lucky I love you or I would feed you to the possessed dryer.’”
Nursey stops, his finger stilling in its place where he’d been idly tracing circles round Dex’s freckles. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”