"I appreciate that," he remarked wryly, though he was smirking at the comparison. No matter how much Cohen didn't seem to consider it, he wasn't ignorant to the fact that he was blessed with good looks. The difference between him and others was that it wasn't his main goal, or even something he thought of, in life. There was a distinct obviousness to the way Marie let her eyes roam over him, a way that anyone with a working pulse and libido would react to, that made him clear his throat a little as they started back towards the restroom. "I feel like you're buttering me up for something now," he said with another smile. "Are you going to make me dive through the vomit?"
If her answer was yes, Cohen would do it. That was just how he operated.
He busied himself with his own pair of gloves, moving further into the room and trying to acclimate his nose to the smell. Maybe it would be better if he just breathed through his mouth? "Back home in Montana, one of my favorite restaurants had a problem with some out of towners coming through and tearing the place up," he explained as he filled a buck of his own and set about gathering whatever mops or sponges or goddess he wished they had fire hoses he would need for the daunting task before them. "One day I went in there and the wall was covered in condoms. Used condoms," he emphasized, catching her eye to convey that he definitely knew they'd been used. There were fluids of varying consistencies and colors on them. "They spelled out 'Thanks for the food, hicks'" He didn't like to wonder how they'd gathered so many used condoms in one place.