"You like shitting?" Freddie asks, biting a smirk because he knows exactly what Noah had meant.

He falls quiet then, thinking it over as he continues fleshing out the bones of his piece, every angular line breaking into another with seemingly no coherent stopping point. No border.

"Your come felt pretty fucking real," he says after a long moment, once again glancing over at Noah. It's been awhile since they've done anything, largely due to Noah's confession at Halloween, but Freddie remembers it well enough. "Tasted real, too. Not telling me it's, like, ectoplasm, are you?"