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You know, I've been wondering that since I met you.
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Yes, well, I don't know what it is.
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But you seem to bring out the very worst in me.
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- Somehow it's my fault. - All of this is your fault.
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You wrote that blasted letter.
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Nonetheless, may I walk you to your room?
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You know, I'm not the buttoned-up,
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Buttock-clenching kill joy you try to make me out as.
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Right. And I made you argue that true love is bollocks.
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Guilty.
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It's just that I'm genuinely worried for her.
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I know she may seem carefree,