Oh no, it'd be a shame if you dirtied his shirt!

You throw some dirt on Mute's shirt. Congratulations, Idiot, it's now on fire and dirty. Well done. Wasn't like he was going to put it back on anyway.

"What, why would you?" Mute says, holding out the palm of his hand feebly trying to understand your unfathomably solid logic for doing that. "Thank you, I guess?"

You'd like to reply something witty, instead you say, "Aaaagh! Fire, help me, Mute!" As the grease on your overalls catches on fire, too.

Should'a saved the dirt for yourself, dummy.