Evey walked sleepily into the kitchen rubbing at her eyes, pulling up the strap of her tank top and pulling the seat of her boy shorts down out of her arse.
"Good Morning, Evey."
Evey squeaked and dropped her hand from her face.
"Damn it V, do you always have to lurk?"
"Having some trouble there?" V gestured with his coffee cup, the hair of his wig swaying across his mask.
Evey realized belatedly, that she was still pulling at her arse. "Well at least I wear underwear. For Christ's sake V, how many times do I have to ask you to put some clothes on!"
V leaned his naked backside against the counter. "Are you ashamed of the human body Evey? Are you a prude? Do I offend your sense of propriety? Are you the kind of small minded woman who would have insisted they put the fig leaf on Michelangelo's David before exhibiting it? Or is it just my scars? Not aesthetically pleasing to you no doubt, an offense to your loveliness, a violation of the vision of beauty you cherish? Well get used to it. I cannot change my habits just because there's a new inmate in the gallery."
Evey clapped slowly. "Nice speech V. Truth is, I'm just tired of seeing you with a hard-on every time I'm forced to adjust my underwear, or bend over, or read a book, or make toast, or breathe…"