"...you want to use what?"
"Crisco, Detective Vecchio. I believe it's de rigeur in encounters such as the one in which we're presently engaged."
"Turnbull, you do know God invented this little thing called lube a while back, right? And that the whole Crisco thing sort of went out the window after that, except for the weirdos who get turned on by chocolate chip cookies?"
"Oh, Detective Vecchio, don't be silly. Of course I know what lube is. Indeed, Constable Fraser and I had a fascinating discussion the other day on the comparative merits of K-Y and Astroglide. I merely--"
"To which you are absolutely not going to treat me to any repeats of right now, you freak. Trust you and Fraser to take comparison shopping way the fuck too far. Just shut up and do it already and leave the forgodssake Crisco in the kitchen where it belongs. We got five minutes to fuck and a closet to do it in, and I don't have time for your bullshit."
"Detective Vecchio, I must say I think you're treating me quite rudely, and I believe that comprises a very bad move on your part at this juncture, all things considered. The next time you interrupt me, I can simply do this..."
"Ah! Ah! AHHHH!"
"...and then, perhaps, this..."
"Ngh. Yes. Oh, please, right there. Oh. Ohshit ohshit..."
"...and then twist them, rather like this..."
"...and I would venture to guess that shortly thereafter you will no longer be in any position to object to my choice of lubricant, greasy and historically dated though it may perhaps be in your eyes."
"Turn-- Turnbull. Oooooooohh. Harder. AhhhhhhAAAAAAAHH!"
"Yes, I rather thought that might be the case. Now turn around, please, and do try to control yourself a tiny bit. I wouldn't want to get any of this on your rather lovely slacks - silk gabardine, unless I miss my guess. The butter-flavored variety does stain so."