[The flesh colored blob continues to move, the blurry outline of Charlie's hand stroking himself idly still off-center. A couple seems to pass behind him, chatting on the other side of whatever partition he's settled inside of.

Distracted, he pauses his masturbation-

After the pair passes out of earshot, he'll resume, though he squints down at the 'flirty' message with disbelief.]

It's a condition, I told you.

And if you wanna talk about inspirin', that ain't it! Did you just copy that from a message to somebody else? [Please say yes, he'd actually be into that-]