“I'm not the distraction in the room.""Oh? And what might be?”

“I'm not going to be a distraction for you, or allow you to be one for me.""A distraction?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Is that what you think you are? What I am? Bloody hell, woman. I need something to distract me from you!”

“He’ll never know. What stays in the VIP room happens in the VIP room,” she slurs.“Don’t you mean what happens in the VIP room stays in the VIP room?”“That’s what I said.”I snicker. “Oh, okay.”

“I'm going to crash if you keep that up. You're sort of distracting.'He laughed again at her matter-of-fact observation. 'I'm sort of distracting? I obviously need to try harder.”

“I'm a little distracted by this English French American Boy Masterpiece.”

“But Hey, Guess What Crazy means I'm not liablefor my actions. So screw it, I'll go home, propped up on Prozac against distractions”