Kurt nodded, "Don't suppose I smell much better, I've been at work all day," and indeed if one were to have described his particular odor the best words would have been: sweat, metal, and blood.

Randy smelled him and grinned. "'S fine to me..."

"I need to take a bath anyway, going out to run errands later, thought I might visit B," said Kurt.

"Mm... then yeah, scratch that, you'd definitely need a good scrubbin'," Randy VIII corrected sternly.

Kurt nodded, "And a shave," he picked Randy's hand up and rubbed the back of it across his prickly chin.

"Dammit, I just got back from seein' somebody; quit tryin' to turn me on," Randy complained as he drew his hand away--though he did lean in to give Kurt another brief sniff.

"I think you're making it worse on yourself," Kurt rolled his eyes and flicked his tongue out to give Randy's lip a lick.

"Hrmm. You ain't helpin'." Randy snapped his teeth at him. "I hat'n seen any real action in a while. You smell like work. I like it."

Kurt smirked, "Well I'm free for the evening if you want to stop by my place,"

Randy VIII contemplated the offer. "Cinnamon's nice and all, but I could use a little blood and sweat to balance it out," he reasoned.

"Well I need to vent my frustrations, I'm feeling restless and violent," said Kurt.

"OK, but if you scuff my heels, you're buyin' me new ones," Randy replied.

Kurt chuckled, "On a cop's salary? Dream on!"

Randy snorted at him. "Then you better watch the shoes."

"Speaking of shoes, Klaus dropped some off for you," said Kurt.

Randy gasped excitedly. "Oh yeah? Lemme see! Did 'e say anything?"