Irreversibly and Gravitationally Yours

Faced with a litany of diagrams and the vagueness of written instructions, Bohn is highly tempted to ask King for advice again, only deciding against when he realizes the exact question on the tip of his tongue is "How many knuckles deep is the prostate?" That seems like it might be a little too much information, maybe. And he doesn't want to find himself staring at anyone's hands but his own once he figures that shit out.

So he asks Duen instead. Over lunch. In the canteen at school. Like a normal person.

To his credit Duen doesn't spit his fucking drink everywhere like King did. His cheeks puff out a little bit, very cutely, but he swallows without any resistance and pops the straw out of his mouth with a bland, "Do you time your stupid, horny questions to try and make people choke?"

Bohn shrugs, "Maybe."