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“It's not every day you get to sing karaoke with a criminal.”
Arthur digresses a profanity: “Look who's talking, the neighborhood pervert,” he says, his voice distorted by the microphone's autotune.
“I'm not the one with a criminal record,” Francis reiterates before sipping his own cocktail and setting it down on the floor, “And I'm not a pervert, I'm an amateur, that's different.”
“Pervert,” Arthur reiterates, dodging a hit on the back of his head just in time, “Don't touch me, frog!”
“Don't insult me, punk!”
“Frog!”
“You punk!”
“Pig!”
“Junkie!”
“Dickhead!”
“Criminal!”
The exchange between the two continues for a good five more minutes; the audience would be impressed by the repertoire of insults Francis and Arthur have for each other if they weren't too busy laughing at the way the autotune is altering their voices, making it sound like the two are singing badly and in robotic voices the entire list of profanities known to man.
“Alistair,” Gilbert turns to Arthur's brother with tears in his eyes, “should we intervene?”
“No, by all means,” the other says, bursting into laughter when Arthur lets loose an expletive worthy of his ex-boyfriend - Feliciano would be proud of him if he were present.