"Ha! Your little trick didn't work on me!" Bill exclaimed triumpantly.
"No, I'm just taking a different route with you," Dave said, holding up his notepad, on which he had written an equation. "This means that every time you put down or discriminate against people of color, this number," he pointed at the '16' under the '1', "...will halve. So I'd be careful. You're already at 1/16th and a black man in some states."
Bill tried to look unimpressed. "Yeah, right." He stalked from the room, leaving Tim and Dave alone.
Tim glared at Dave, his heavy black brows furrowed over his black eyes. "Hijo de puta..." he struggled with his language. "I have a girlfriend, dammit! A life, man!"
"You still have a life, Timmy," Dave answered evenly. "And a girlfriend, if she's into hairy chulos like you."
Timmy started towards Dave, his thick brown hands grasping, "Ah, Timmy, you can leave here with security or on your own. They'll find a rich gringo's ID in you wallet, you really want that charge?" He smiled, gesturing at the notepad. "At least you still like girls...I can change that, too, you know."