"I... don't know how to respond to that."

"Don't flatter yourself. I just don't see you in the laundry room or by the mail boxes much anymore. You're a funny guy when you aren't busting my god damn balls."

"Oh, uh, thanks? I know we don't get to talk much anymore other than my nightly visits to complain about your music. You have pretty good taste, actually. I wouldn't probably mind if not for the time of day... Why do you do that anyway?"

Karina goes pale for a moment, and averts her eyes as she answers. "I turn the music up really loud, so that no one hears me while I masturbate."

She takes a long sip of her drink, in an attempt to avoid having to talk again.

"Woah! you play your music a lot! is that always the case?"

"Usually." She immediately answers, almost **** on the drink she's still trying to use as a cover. "Can I ask you a question?" she asks, realizing the futility of her efforts.

"I don't see why not."

"What the hell happened to you man? When I first moved here you seemed so full of life, with ambitions and shit. Now all of a sudden you're a shmuck in a monkey suit."

"Oh, shit. I guess it's my fault for asking for honesty huh? I don't know... I graduated, I got a soul sucking job. When I'm not at said job, I don't really feel like doing much else but relaxing at home, finally getting some me time. I didn't think anyone else really noticed."

"Fuck, I am not eager for that to be me. Are you still working that telemarketing job?"

"Yeah..." I start rubbing the back of my neck. "An art degree doesn't guarantee very many jobs that can cover both rent and food consistently."

"Shit, at least with a computer science degree I can do freelance work if nothing else."

"What kind of porn do you masturbate to all the time?"

A look of resignation falls over her expression and she rolls her eyes as she starts. "Well usually I just watch a lot of..." She pauses.

"Oh, fuck. I don't feel the urge to answer honestly anymore. Suck it bitch." She pulls on an eyelid with her middle finger, and sticks her tongue out at me, before collecting the mugs and placing them in the sink.

Damn the suspense. Just as I finally ask a good question. This is season finale of "Hannibal" all over again.

Curiosity now gnawing at me, I ask. "Would you rather explain everything that turns you on in explicit excruciating detail, or show me the last video you jilled it to?"

She turns to me after a moment of thinking, with a look of shame and defeat, as she chooses...