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Summary
"'Soap?' Ghost asked, dumbfounded. He knew what drag was, he wasn’t fucking stupid, but knowing what drag is and seeing the man you’ve been infatuated with for years at a gay bar, in drag, are two entirely different things to contend with.
Soap tutted, placing one hand on a generous hip–Ghost was certain he’d put padding there–and the other flat on his chest, as if he was offended at the question.
'That's Lady Lather t'you, sir.'"Or
The song Andrew in Drag REALLY did a number on my psyche.