The damaged shirt came off, a white-blue torso of solid ice that was curved and contoured perfectly to include every line of muscle. He tucked the shirt into his back pocket, only to look up at CJ with an incredibly incredulous expression when he heard what the guy had to say for himself.
"I talk too mu-- okay, okay," Bobby said, throwing his hands up and backing away, "Fuck you, dude."
Pointing down, a platform of ice constituted beneath his feet and started to carry him forward on a continuously forming slide.
"I was having a great day, then some giant green dick pops in and knocks me the fuck over, rips my shirt, throws me around, and then says I-- no, absolutely not. Nope. This is not my freakin' job."
The platform suddenly spun like it was on wheels so the he was facing CJ as he continued to move backward, "Comm devices are on the table. Good luck."