no. what's so funny?
why are you here?
don't you have more important things to do? picking flowers, honeymoon reservations.
what's wrong with here?
but here, i won't be tempted to raise my voice or do something rash. that's the first lesson of hotel management. never lose your cool, no matter how annoying the guest is. not that i plan to go into hotel management. i don't have ambitions in that direction. or any direction, if i recall you correctly.
rosie, you'd better leave. before i get myself fired.
discipline. always a struggle.
it won't happen again.
jesus!
no.
i lied.
because what? because you're getting married?
rosie, i want you to be happy. i do. and someday, we'll be friends. someday, we'll all go out to dinner. the four of us.
sure. me, you, jerry, and whatever pale imitation of you i can dig up to be my date.
and the check will come and jerry will pick up the tab and i'll protest, but not too much. then, you'll give me a kiss on the cheek, and some dim memory will stir in me, but not for too long. and we'll say, "it was great to see you." and it will be great to see you.
yes. i was.
i don't write 'em, rose.
no.
no.
you do that.
if i go down those stairs. it will only lead to one place. right back here. the two of us. a short, brilliant moment. one more to add to the gallery. then, empty-handed again, with nothing to show for it but an emotional hangover. i'm not going to open this door.  discipline.  like the man said, don't fuck the guests.
i've got nothing to say to you.
rose.
this is bullshit. i can't spell it out any more plainly. it's impossible!
because i can't be this close to you. and not want to touch you.
that's. it.
and if i can't do that, i don't want to be your friend. not now. not ever.
the bottom line is. if i'm with you, i have to touch you, to kiss you. that doesn't work for friends, does it?
when i'm not with you -- this is more than you need to know. if i touch myself, i can only think about one person. you. no one else. just you.
what do you mean "we"? this is your problem.
you have to say good-bye.
should we stop?