"This is all your fault, Paolo!"
"My fault, Sandro, you were the one who felt the sex was getting tame!"
"You were the one who suggested a threesome!"
"You were the one who chose Andrea-penis gives me a panic attack-Pirlo."
"You were the one who so chivalrously gave up the hotel room, leaving us out here!" Sandro gestured wildly, nearly knocking them both off the seat.
"Oh, right," Paolo clung to his half of the seat. "Sorry, my bad."
"Forget it," Sandro sulked silently for a while. "Paolo?"
"We've never done it in a back seat."
“So, that’s why we never did it in a back seat.”
Paolo mumbled indistinctly, glowering at Sandro.
“Violent orgasms, flailing limbs, stray body parts in the line of fire…”
“Poor Paolo!” Sandro commiserated. “How does your nose feel?”
“I didn’t hit you that hard!” Sandro was indignant.
“You did! How ab I gobing to expwain this to Adriana?”
“We’ll think of something,” Sandro stroked Paolo’s thigh and glanced out the window. “It’s a nice night.”
“We’d think more clearly out in the fresh air,” Sandro shifted his hand upwards.
“Why…oh…ohhh! Well, it was your fault.”
"Someday, we'll look back on this and laugh."
"That day is not today!" The stuffy nose tone was gone but there was a tightness to Paolo's voice that Sandro didn't quite like.
"Speaking of laughter..."
"I'd rather not, Sandro."
"Why the hell did you use your kids' laughter as a ringtone?"
"It seemed like a cute idea at the time," Paolo was defensive.
"Well, it isn't! I nearly bit my tongue off when your mobile rang."
"Too bad it wasn't your tongue you bit."
"At least Andrea let us raid his mini fridge. More ice?"
Paolo shifted and winced, "Please."