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[brushoff]

"You've reached the inbox of one Dorian Gray. Don't forget to leave me a message. If you're interesting, I'll get back to you."

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[conning]

[A pause, while Neal reflects with irony on the wildly different tone of this conversation. Amused:]

As an aside, a friend of mine offered to help me sneak the Barge equivalent of Nair into your shampoo.

[brushoff]

Cute, but it wouldn't take. Immortality has it's perks, and one of them is regrowing hair, fingernails, and so on if they're horribly damaged.

I had chunks of my hair burned off by a German bomb one time. Nair would be a nuisance, but that's it.

[conning]

Oh, that is profoundly irritating.

So I guess it fits.

[Another pause as he realizes the “German bombs” thing isn’t even weird enough to register immediately any more. What the hell man.]

[brushoff]

Everything about me is profoundly irritating. Have I namedropped a celebrity I've met at you yet?

[conning]

No, but I'm pretty solid on that one myself.

[brushoff]

Pity. I've got a lovely story about getting drinks with Frank Sinatra.

[conning]

My landlady played cards with the Rat Pack on a regular basis and I inherited a closet full of suits made personally by Sy Devore. You’re not special.

[That last bit is clearly a joke.]

[brushoff]

[ Closet full of suits made personally by Sy Devore absolutely piques his interest. Dorian chuckles before pointing out, ]

One day, you, me and Norton all need to have a lovely little bitch sesh about how nobody on this goddamn ship can dress. Just because someone's dead, that doesn't give them the excuse of wearing an undershirt as an overshirt.

[conning]

God I miss my clothes. Yeah, what's communally available is better than a prison jumpsuit, but once you pass the ten thousand dollar mark there's really no going back.

[brushoff]

About every month or so I spend half a day in the infirmary, looking around, rifling through everything just to find something even slightly luxe.