It's about as close to a serious answer as either of us are going to get, but I'm only saying that because my cryptic asshole powers have been stifled thanks to this collar.

[Dave looks worse for wear, but not necessarily around the collar. He's bruised and battered, his hair is tousled and his lips are chapped. He's forcing himself to be sassy in lieu of actually admitting that he feels like shit and he wants to curl up somewhere for a bit and sleep it all off.]

I feel like our chances of getting out of here safely go up by at least twenty-five percent when I can open up a fresh can of whoop-ass on these sons of bitches alongside you like some sort of buddy-cop duo only with weird-ass powers. Only it’s not fresh because it’s canned. And also this is making me feel kind of fetishy in a bad way so the sooner it’s off, the better.