“I said it’s fine, Gerard,” Claire said flatly. “Pick the film. I don’t care.” “You’re lying,” he accused. “It’s not fine and you’re going to make me suffer.” “Do what you want, Gerard.” “Stop mind-fucking me!” “Fine.” “Don’t say that.” “Fine.” “Fine!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Fucking fine. You win.” Turning to the man sitting behind the counter, he said, “Two tickets for The Wedding Date please, and a container for her to store my balls in.”
