[Lips spread and show teeth; the smile reaches his eyes but doesn't manifest in a laugh. He shakes his head and relaxes back into his previous position.]

You're so full of shit. Bet you you could smoke an entire football field of weed and you'd still be all worked up.

[And then he points at nowhere, like he just remembered -]

I have a solution for that, too. It involves your hand and a box of tissues.