“I'm at the age where i don't have to kiss arse or play nice!”
“Oh, we're playing nice now? Shall we have tea first? Brew up a nice pot of kiss-my-ass?”
“Last warning. I don't play nice.”
“Kiss me, I think. Go on, kiss me. At least grab my arse.”
“What is it? Tens, I can see the stick up your arse from here. I'm dying remember? Dying people don't have time for silly moods”
“Oh, we're playing nice now?” Puck remained seated, looking anything but compliant. “Shall we have tea first? Brew up a nice pot of kiss-my-ass?”