[ After a few seconds of narrow-eyed glaring wherein Heathcliff tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, he sighs. Okay, maybe this is a mirror version of Ishmael, or some weird time shit happened while they were at T Corp. Whatever. This Ishmael's good enough. Or at least close enough to make him sputter about a crime both of them remember him committing, which he does redfaced and with indignation. ]

For the last time, I needed to look smart when I went back. I ain't about to pinch whatever I can get my hands on for no reason, I ain't that daft...

[ Heathcliff grimaces, then finishes the coffee in one spiteful gulp, then puts it to the side. ]

I wasn't payin' much mind, that's for sure. Figured I was dreaming, got right plastered, and that was about the end of it.

[ Instead of getting anywhere near the sex part of their situation because it's insane, he scowls, reaches out, and swats one of her sidebangs. ]

Ain't all to report for you, though. What's happened to that hairband of yours, eh? Stolen? Gambled away?