Red's grip had been tightening against his old, worn-out mop ever since the 'Oil Drop' started running its mouth. Or... uh... whatever you'd call that part of it making the sounds. But one could only be expected to hear a strange liquid complain about its day for so long before losing their patience, and- at this point- Red's fingers were starting to subtly crack the handle.

Playing nice wasn't getting either him or the timid kid anywhere. It was time to be a little more firm.

"I'll call ya whatever you want, just get in the doggone bucket before I go downstairs and get the sawdust!!"