- ChiyoLv 51 0 年前最佳解答
Julianne: Hello, George.
George: Hey, gorgeous. Having a good time?
Julianne: Not particularly, but I did what I came to do.
George: What? You split them up?
Julianne: No, I said good-bye.
George: Good girl. I'm proud of you. I'd be prouder still if you were dancing.
Julianne: Hmm, I have a big plan for dancing. Just give me 30, 35 years.
George: Mmm. The misery, the exquisite tragedy. The Susan Hayward of it all. I can just picture you there sitting alone at your table in your lavender gown.
Julianne: Did I tell you my gown was lavender?
George: Hair swept up. Haven't touched your cake. Probably drumming your fingernails on the white linen tablecloth. The way you do when you're really feeling down. Perhaps even looking at those nails, thinking. "God. I should've stopped in all my evil plotting to have that manicure." But it's too late now.
Julianne: George, I didn't tell you my dress was lavender
George: Suddenly a familiar song. Then you're off you chair in one exquisite movement. Wondering, searching, sniffing the wind like a dapple deer. Has God heard your little prayer? Will Cinderella dance again? And then suddenly the crowds part. And there he is, sleek, stylish. R-r-radiant with charisma. Bizarrely, he's on the telephone. But then, so are you. And he comes towards you. The moves of the jungle cat. And although you quite correctly sense that he is... gay. Like most devastatingly handsome single men of his age are. You think. "What the hell... life goes on." Maybe there won't be marriage. Maybe there won't be sex. But, by God. There'll be dancing.
George: Bond. Jane Bond.
- 榮Lv 61 0 年前