Dialogue

Me, sleepily stroking Matt's face with the back of my hand: I like your whiskers.
Matt: They're not whiskers. Whiskers are longer and... sense things.
Me: No, I meant old man whiskers. Like... old-cowboy whiskers.
Matt: They're longer too and...
Me: Sense things?
Matt: Irritate whores in the back rooms of saloons.
Me: Oh.
Me: You feel like Tygra.
Matt: ...How would you know?