One of those “classic victorian horror literature characters in a modern setting” stories, where Dr. Jekyll has figured out how to fix the Mr. Hyde formula in order to do/undo the transformation at will, but keeps pretending like it’s outside of his control. Going like oh noo, the dark wills to commit unspeakable acts are coming over me again [pulling out a glass test tube shaped flask from his front pocket] I have no choice but to go out and sin, what a wretched slave I am to this creature that I am about to become
And at this point everyone else is 100% done with politely going along with it and just go “oh for fuck’s sake doctor we are on the 25th year of the 21st century, you can just go to a gay bar if you want.”