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Robert's face pinched and squished as the headache of waking up thudded against his temples, and his eyes slit open to look at Clarice surrounded by a halo of light.

It was a little disturbing.

"Augh, okay, okay, I'm up." Robert brushed her hand away and sat up straight, holding his head in his hands. "Do they really gotta knock us out just for ******** up?" He rubbed his neck, and stood. It was.. a good thing he couldn't see his own face. As soon as he found a reflective surface, though, Clarice was dead.

"Now what?"

He got the reference. And his answer was a feral grin and a barked out "Woof." Then he watched her hit the reset button on a physical game, and his expression dropped to open interest. "Nice. I like that. I guess we keep playing, then."

He reached out, but just before he pushed a piece out his other hand kind of cupped his neck, and he looked around warily. He was not too excited about getting shot again.

Clarice was right. Negative reinforcement worked - his slow, careful pull of the piece was proof of that.

Ohhhh Robert did not like this. Clarice should not know about his.. his..

"UGH." He grunted, and slid his finger through the tower, knocking out a piece and then picking it back up to put on top. "You don't ever stop dancing, Clarice.. it's like riding a bike. It never goes away."

His hands slid into his pockets, and his back arched stiffly as he grumbled under his breath. "No matter how bad you wish it would."

"Oh for the love of God, Clarice." Robert turned away from the game, and bent down to glare at her eye to eye. "Yes. I still dance. Okay? I tango, I salsa, I swing, charleston, I grand jeté," His french accent was smooth, and his words came out like the snap of a finger, "I fouetté, I battement frappé, I still dance. Yes. Okay? Are we clear now? Why the hell does that even matter to you? It ain't like I'm gonna dance the monsters to death."

He swiveled around and pulled out a side piece, one of the last easy pieces left on the tower. Even as he pulled it, the tower wobbled as if to say it's only going to get harder from here.

Robert listened, even as he bent in almost immediately and looked for a good piece. He chuckled at the ideas Clarice gave him, and stilled himself once he found a fairly stable one. His hands shook just slightly, but the piece slid out without a problem. This was a little surprising - he was sure the game was almost over.

When he stood up straight, he gave the woman a cautious glance. ".. Did Jerry put you up to this?" It all made sense, now. "Is that what this is about? Did he pay you to try and get me into his choir??"

Robert looked a little relieved that Jerry had nothing to do with it, but the fact that Clarice knew about the less.. manly parts of his past still left him unsettled. Still, as much as Clarice seemed to spout nothing but bile at him sometimes, he was beginning to realize that she wasn't just unreasonably hating him. She wanted him to do better. She kind of even sounded like she cared.

A little.

Maybe.

Robert worried his lower lip, before both of his eyebrows rose. He'd passed? Holy s**t, he'd passed. Robert Morris didn't pass tests often.. it was a good feeling.

He wished that warm, fuzzy feeling wasn't tempered by the cold stone that remained in his gut from their earlier conversation.

"You have a peen, Clarice?" He murmured, sounding impressed. "Wow, the surgery must have been done by a professional. I really thought you were a woman." Did his eyes just lower for a moment? Why yes, they did. He was a man, Clarice, not a machine.

"Oh. Right. The giant a** phallic thing." He bent all the way down, surveyed the bottom, and slowly started pushing the middle bottom piece out. He had it halfway through when her words paused, and he gave her the stink eye for a moment, before finishing up.

When he put the piece back up on the tower, he folded his hands in front of him. "Are you trying to make another d**k joke?"

"AHHH YOU LITTLE s**t." Robert had stared at Clarice for all of ten seconds before he realized she was trolling him, and leaned over to push her right shoulder. Then he turned his gaze back to the tower, looking left, then right..

"Slim pickings." He mumbled, before taking one out very, veeeeery slowly.. holding his breath until he slid free with a wobble. Then he put it up on top, and let go.

"So, Clarice. What are you doing after this?" He lidded his eyes heavily, his eyebrows waggling. "Maybe you could show me that weapon of yours. Intimately."