[Shit, she's taking this way more seriously than even he thought. Artolo's expression starts to ease away from relaxed jackassery, lips turning down in a puzzled frown. The furrow of his brows are hidden a little by his shades, but they're there, trust him.]

Listen.... Calm the hell down, first of all. Try and remember what label you're a part of.

If you were Virgo, sure, I'd say you're right, there's obviously a stick so far up Blanche's ass that it has transcended time and space to lodge up everyone else's anal cavity in that shitty group, but, uh, news flash, we aren't Virgo.

We're Pride.

We're encouraged to be huge disastrous fuck ups in public. I mean, come on, I went before like hundreds of people, shittalked for a minute, flipped everyone off, and was overall a huge sack of shit. I'm not gonna pretend I wasn't. Yet because the human population is nothing but assholes with questionable taste, I somehow got third place in that charity thing.

Get it? Be a screw up. It's fine. Just be an entertaining screw up.