You —a person who’s insecure about her trashy accent— and I —a well-known bastard— spend an afternoon exploring a crowded museum, where I insist that you express your thoughts about each display. Every time you finish speaking, I respond with “Say again? I can’t understand a fucking word coming out of your head.”
When a group of schoolchildren pass, I get their attention, point at you, and roll my eyes while you repeat yourself. The kids’ chaperone gives me a dirty look, but then pauses to listen to what you’re actually saying, shrugs, and gives me a sympathetic smile.
Then the chaperone and I go get a drink while the kids ask you if you were dropped on your head when you were little.