[Finally! That last bit was too much. He straightened up once they were out of the room, shoulders rolling back. As emphatically far from bowing as one could get.

But apparently the whole sorry afair isn't done yet. The knife disappears up his sleeve again. It'll be a long, hungry night, then. What a horribly familiar feeling.

He waves away the apology.] Of course you can't. You might be the most married man I've ever met. [The only thing that could possibly make it more obvious would be a little portrait miniature of his husband stowed in a heart-shaped locket.

But marriage didn't always ensure faithfulness, so he might as well clear up one more thing.] Besides--there's no spark there. Apologies, darling.