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Summary
"Uh… are you…? Kyle?"
He's almost bashful. Which probably wouldn't bode well for him if Stan were dealing with anyone other than Kyle. As it is, Kyle has a tendency to land clients like this. The newbies, who don't know what things should cost. Gullible.
Kyle can see it in this dude's eyes. Underneath all that eyeliner, he's just a puppy.
He hums. Flicks his cigarette. "You're Kenny's friend? Stan?"
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Kyle's life is a series of rules. The first one being: do not sleep with his weed clients. Stan Marsh is turning out to be an exception to that rule.