"You could have the most epic cock on the planet and I wouldn't give a flying fuck," Santana replied cooly. "No offense, but I have no use for a cock anymore. Although, I'm sure there are hundreds of gay guys along the way who are more than grateful that yours is so... whatever it is... But for fuck's sake, now you're in the realm of the outrageous. Get a life, weirdo." She was only joking, and she moved over to the couch, flopping down carelessly. "You seriously pay a lot of attention to fake tits for a fag, you know." At the conclusion of Sebastian's brief recounting of his brother's awkward moment, Santana could only shake her head, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Jezzie? The fuck is that? I seriously would've bitch pleased her so fast it would've made her empty head spin."

"Oh, Christ," Santana replied, shaking her head with a grin of amusement. "Poor Germ would be attached to you and forced to occupy himself while you were fucking. How goddamn awkward would that be? Fuck. Poor guy. Pizza's gotta be a bitch to get sick on, too. Gross." And suddenly, her mouth was hanging open as Sebastian went off on a tangent she knew nothing about. Was he saying that Blaine was forcing himself to puke? What? That couldn't be right. But what he was getting at, she had no idea. Glancing at him, she finally spoke. "Yeah. Yeah, you better start at square one with that one, buddy. You lost me at self-forced puking, so we'll go from there." Her arms crossed over her chest, and her head moved to one side in a sassy motion that told Sebastian quickly that she wasn't waiting around for this story, and he better get to talking.