[ Krouse straightens up slightly, looking down at Spider-Man thoughtfully as he spins his latest braid between his fingers. He seems to be taking the message to heart, truly soaking it in -

- until he finishes balling up the grass braid into a little wad of bruised chlorophyll and flicks it expertly at the side of Spider-Man's head. ]

Not that you're wrong. [ He explains, magnanimously. ] But that's so fucking corny the government wants to give you agricultural subsidies.

Is there a forum where you all get together and come up with this stuff? Stock phrases for troubled youth on the brink?

[ The questions are a little confrontational. The tone isn't. It's just playful shit-giving, softened to the point of verging on gentle. ]