BROOKLYN: Hey, Rihanna. You look gorgeous.
RIHANNA: You’re so sweet, B. But you can be real with me.
BROOKLYN: I… what do you mean?
RIHANNA: ‘Gorgeous’? Come on. LOOK AT ME. You can’t see my thighs. You can’t see my navel. I’m not gyrating or thrusting. My boobs are totally covered up. My tongue isn’t hanging out of my mouth. And I’m not sweating. WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME?