T-Bag: You got a little something on your, uh...
(T-Bag indicates a small piece of food on Denise's cheek, but she passes her hand on her chin)
T-Bag: No, I...here, let me.
(T-Bag cleans Denise's cheek with a napkin)
T-Bag: Pardon my forwardness, I was...
Denise: It's okay. Thank you.
T-Bag: Normally I wouldn't intervene, it's just...Yesterday when I got home from work I found what looked like the Brazilian rain forest lodged between my two front teeth. And all I could think about was the number of people who must've seen and not...not a damn one of them had the decency to tell me.
Denise: Mild diastema.
T-Bag: Excuse me?
Denise: It's a slight gap between your eight and nine. Your two front teeth.
And that it sometimes can act as a magnet for food like broccoli and tuna and sometimes rice. Or relish.
T-Bag: All this and brains, too? What are you, a dentist or...
Denise: Me? No, hardly, no. I could never. My ex, my ex-husband, he was...
T-Bag: A bastard?
Denise: That too.
T-Bag: Have you ever been to Italy, uh...
T-Bag: Denise, that's a lovely name. You know, in Italy, they have wine every day with lunch. And what do we do in this country? We power our food down with caffeine, carbonation and high fructose corn syrup. No one ever takes the time to enjoy things anymore. Denise, would you do me the honor of "enjoying" the rest of your lunch with me?
Denise: I think I'd like that.
T-Bag: White or red?