It's a sunny afternoon. You enter a Games Workshop, your sweat-drenched, tiny hands (too tiny, in fact, for someone of your age) feverishely wrapped around your unpainted Space Marines army box. You're looking for a good fight, but the massive amount of sweat produced by your wonky sweating glands that your unibrow failed to retain is blurring your vision. Some drops of this sweat end their race on the "for the empror" shirt (3.75$ on AliExpress, cheaper than the one with the correct sentence) covering your man tits, adding a few stars among the constellation of tacos crumbs, fat trails and jizz stains that have covered your favourite shirt for many years. Adjusting your two-inch wide, fog-covered, blue plastic glasses, you manage to control your divergent strabismus, and focus on someone waiting for an adversary ; a Tau player, as you deduct from the perfectly painted blue skin of his troops. You catch your inhaler, use it, and manage to mutter, with great pain : "Fucking weEB." Your voice emits a high-pitched sound at the last syllable, making the few people that could hear your faint voice think you are a woman, your greasy and long hair adding to the effect.
Then, a gaze of sheer charisma hits you. The Tau player turned his wide and naked back to face you. He's sitting, but he still manages to be one head taller than you. "Why is he half-naked ?" you ask yourself at the moment. As you run your eyes over his well honed, perfectly fit body, your weeping eyes losing count of his fierce abdominals, you start to understand that such a bulwark of muscles needs to ventilate his godly equipment more often than a mere human needs to. At this very moment, the employees understand that you aren't a woman, since you haven't squirted on the spot from the deafening vibration of raw sexual power that this oiled beast emits.