MICHELLE: Hey, Ryan.

RYAN: Michelle. Ma belle.

MICHELLE: Right, yes. The Beatles.

RYAN: I am crazy for you.

MICHELLE: Madonna. Can I play? How about, ‘Don’t stand so close to me.’

RYAN: The Police! Also, sorry. I’m just so drawn to your creamy white torso. I want to spread it on toast and take it for breakfast in bed.

MICHELLE: … R. Kelly?

RYAN: No, Ryan Gosling.

MICHELLE: Really? Since when are you so porny?

RYAN: I DON’T KNOW. I think it’s the scarf. It has me feeling so randy. Like I could drink a shot of rum out of your clavicle. And then leap into your dress, and into your secret garden…


RYAN: No, Bruce Springsteen. Well, sort of.

MICHELLE: Man, this is getting scary. I’m gonna shoot somebody.

RYAN: What?!?

MICHELLE: Now THAT was R. Kelly.

RYAN: Cunning. But seriously, I do like that dress. It’s like a painting. A painting of serenity. I can paint, you know. With my fingers. I could turn your fair epidermis into a canvas, that skin like porcelain, one pair of candy lips and your bubblegum tongue…

MICHELLE: John Mayer. Wow, I can’t believe you are quoting Man-Whore at me. Dealbreaker!

RYAN: You thought I was quoting R. Kelly before, but JOHN MAYER is your dealbreaker?

MICHELLE: A girl has to have standards. Does this stuff really work on Blake Lively?

RYAN: I never kiss and tell. But, yes.

MICHELLE: Well, congrats to you and your scarf. I hope you’re all very happy. Laughter is calling for you. Three’s company, too.

RYAN: That one is… wait for it, I know this one…

MICHELLE: It’s Three’s Company.

RYAN: Damn! You’ve bested me in this round, Williams. Well played indeed.