"Ooooh," Sparkle noted, where he was standing with his face buried in his shirt, which he'd hiked up far enough to show off his bellybutton. "That's what one of those smells like? Man, and here I'd thought this was one of those fucked-up stopovers you were telling me about."

He was pouting, not that you could tell, what with his lower face buried in a t-shirt that smelled like dish soap. Mmm, dish soap.