"Tch, stupid zeptoliters trying to dictate what data's appropriate to communicate," the Reaper grumbled. "It's regular right-angle quadrilateral parallelograms like them that stifle creativity at it's core. Censorship is garbage. CRUNCH! I'll add it to the heap."

His statement was accompanied by the customary slamming of fist into palm, a satisfying smack as the two came together.

"Fine, your exhaust pipe or whatever you robots got down there," he said irritably in response to HK's remark as he picked up a chunk of pizza. Half of the slice's volume disappeared in a matter of seconds down the endless maw of Minamimoto. "I am a product of my factors! Evolution is the revolution that gave birth to my resolution within this binomial distribution!"