Hydrogen: We've finally discovered a worse way to try to pick up women than hitting on them in a laundromat or telling them to bathe more often: knocking all the clothes out of their hands on the way to the laundromat, and then hitting on them.

Trillaphon: "Hey baby, nice dress, I'd love to see how it looks crumpled up on the floor. The floor of my bedroom, that is, not this floor right here, which I only knocked your dress onto as a rough simulation to demonstrate how it might look crumpled up on the floor of my bedroom later after we've had done some hot sex-fucking all night."

Hydrogen: And then his response to "now I must go" is to ratchet the creepy factor up to 11 by grabbing the back of her hand and then stare directly at her with his dead, soulless eyes.

Trillaphon: He's just taking full advantage of the fact that he lives in an era before rape whistles, pepper spray, or women's rights were invented. The real question is why he's so infatuated with her despite the brutal Cockney accent and his own obvious inability to mate with anything that doesn't have at least a couple horns/hooves.

Hydrogen: Have you seen the other things that pass for women on this ship? If she rejected him he'd probably make a pass at the Dalmatian next.

Trillaphon: That dog would shut him down before Leo could say "Hey Rose let me get a piece of that door to float on instead of drowning alone in this icy abys-" *glug glug glug*

Hydrogen: Don't be fucking ridiculous, everybody knows there were no casualties on the real Titanic, they were all saved by an armada of luxurious talking whales.

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